


Jonsa Drabbles - Part 1

by annabeth_writes



Series: Jonsa Drabbles [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, I like things to be neat, and messing my brain, any warnings will be in the beginning notes of each individual chapter, except for noncon and dubcon cause I don't fuck with that, okay so this was getting too long with all the individual tags, so just assume that this is a drabble collection that has all the things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:34:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 100
Words: 123,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24132157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annabeth_writes/pseuds/annabeth_writes
Summary: This is a collection of shorter fics that I've written, going back to 2014.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark
Series: Jonsa Drabbles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770151
Comments: 286
Kudos: 321





	1. Modern AU - Secret Relationship

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to be editing my older drabbles as I go (because my writing has DRASTICALLY improved in the last six years) but these are going to be old fics of mine all the way up to recent prompt responses and drabbles.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A modern AU where Jon and Sansa are in a relationship already but the rest of the Starks don't know until Arya or Robb catches them in the act? Not necessarily they were caught having sex. Could be just kissing or being overly sweet.

It was much more difficult than either of them thought that it would be. When Jon was visiting his father’s side of the family in California for half of the summer, Sansa didn’t have much of an issue hiding the developments in their relationship. Even when Robb commented that he thought his best friend was seeing a girl at college and asked her if she knew anything, Sansa managed a look of disinterest and careless shrug. Following their rehearsed lines, she claimed that she rarely saw Jon and that when she did, he had his nose buried in a book. It wasn’t a complete lie. Sansa didn’t see him as much as she liked and he was almost always reading and studying, until she inevitably managed to distract him. Her family didn’t question her. They had no reason to. To them, Jon and Sansa were quite simply indifferent to one another.

It all changed when he arrived halfway through their summer holiday. The second that he walked through the door, Sansa felt an innate pull to him before she even saw his face. When Arya leapt into his arms, she felt a stab of jealousy that her little sister was able to embrace him. They weren't embarrassed of their relationship by any means but not knowing how her family would take the truth of who they were to one another, they preferred to continue as they were. In ignorant bliss and with little drama. Sansa hovered at the doorway to the kitchen, a dishtowel still in her hands from drying off their breakfast plates. She could not help how her eyes narrowed as Robb yanked Jon into a hug and thumped his back several times, grinning at him. When Jon finally glanced her way, Sansa turned on the spot before they could lock eyes, making her way back into the kitchen without a word.

That was only the beginning.

Rather than attempting to act casually in front of her family, because she had begun to think that was impossible when all she wanted to do was bring Jon in for a deep, claiming kiss, Sansa avoided them at all costs. She made excuses about meeting with old friends from high school or needing to go shopping whenever her mother would complain. No one else really cared. They all had Jon there and that was enough for her brothers and sister, and even her father. Ned did comment on her disappearances but Sansa simply gave him a smile and distracted him by asking about something to do with his work. The only person who seemed really bothered was the one that she wanted to spend time with the most.

After two and a half weeks of avoiding her family, Sansa was finally forced to stay at home. They were having their annual summer barbeque with the entire neighborhood invited, as always, and she had little choice but to help her mother cook. Arya always mysteriously vanished to the backyard when it came time to work in the kitchen and neither Sansa nor her mother had the desire to fetch her. She should have known that the talk was coming but when Catelyn sighed, Sansa tensed up and paused in peeling potatoes.

“You haven’t been around much,” she said.

“I told you, Mom—”

“I know, friends and shopping,” Catelyn said, glancing over at her.

Her expression showed that she believed Sansa’s excuses almost as much as she believed that Rickon ate his vegetables at dinner, instead of sneaking them to Shaggydog.

“You were around a lot at the beginning of the summer. It’s only since Jon came that you’ve been gone so much.”

Sansa ducked her head even more, sincerely hoped that her long curtain of hair covered the flush in her cheeks.

“It’s a coincidence, I guess,” she said with a shrug.

Catelyn Stark was anything but a stupid woman and much like Sansa expected, she didn’t buy that for a second.

“Your siblings all like him quite a lot and sometimes, their attentions are at the expense of you. No one would blame you for resenting him—”

“I don’t resent him,” Sansa cut her off.

She felt her mother’s doubtful gaze on her and sighed, putting down the peeler.

“It’s not a big deal, Mom. I just have a lot to do and only a little time to do it. Jon has nothing to do with anything,” she said, sincerely hoping that the subject would be dropped.

When Catelyn glanced behind her, Sansa froze and winced, knowing exactly who she would see when she turned. Jon was standing there and he was not alone. Robb glanced between them with a pained look on his face and Sansa’s cheeks burned even hotter as she tossed the peeled potato into the bowl.

“I’m going to the store. We need more… something,” she said, grabbing her purse and digging her car keys out.

Sansa made it as far as the front porch before a hand caught her arm, gently pulling her back. She turned to tell whoever it was that she was fine but the words died in her throat when she saw Jon’s dark grey eyes staring back at her. He pulled her to the edge of the porch, out of any view through the windows, and glanced around before looking at her with concern.

“What’s going on?" he asked, his voice quiet. "I haven’t seen you much since I got here. I thought you would be happy to see me. You were excited when I said I was coming and then you just **...** you disappeared.”

He stared at her with a furrow in his brow, real hurt shining in his eyes. Sansa let out a shuddering sigh, a lump rising in her throat as she dropped her forehead to his shoulder. Without hesitation, Jon's arms lifted to wrap around her, holding her close.

“I was happy… I am!" she said, tears stinging at her eyes. "But it’s harder than I thought. I know that you don’t want them to find out before we’re ready and I don’t either. It’s just... hard.”

Jon didn’t say anything for several moments. When he pulled away and reached up to cradled her face, she let her eyes lift to finally meet his.

“It’s hard for me too. All that I wanted to do the moment that I walked in that door was take you in my arms and kiss you,” he said, stroking his thumb over her cheek to wipe away a fallen tear.

Sansa’s lip trembled as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, just as his hands fell to her hips in a gentle grip.

“I’ve missed you,” she admitted quietly.

Jon's quirked upwards ever so slightly just before he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. Sansa sighed and melted into him, deepening the kiss as her hands slid into his hair, stroking through the soft, curly locks. His thumbs slid into the belt loops of her jeans as he pushed her against the railing of the porch, falling into the same pit of desire they always felt around one another. They were so deeply distracted by their heated kisses that the sound of someone running around the house didn’t reach their ears until a shout rang through the air.

“Holy shit!”

Jon leaped away from Sansa in a way that would have been comical if she didn’t stagger at the sudden loss of his body against hers and shoot him a quick glare. Sansa didn’t have much time to be annoyed as she followed Jon's wide-eyed gaze only to see Arya on the grassy lawn beneath the porch, holding a dirty soccer ball in her hands. She was looking between them with a slack jaw and a stunned look on her face.

“Arya…” Jon said as he took a step forward, clearly thinking about deescalating the situation before it got worse.

“Dad! Robb!” her little sister shouted at the top of her lungs, definitely making it worse.

When she turned to run back to the backyard, Sansa looked back at Jon with an alarmed look.

“Arya!” she shouted, darting off of the porch.

Jon was right on her heels, though they had little hope of stopping her now. Arya was a quicker runner than both of them. When they finally staggered into the backyard and saw her standing with the rest of Sansa’s family, talking as quickly as she could, they both stopped short with guilt written across their faces. Catelyn’s mouth was wide open in shock. Ned and Robb looked emotionless, their jaws clenched and their arms crossed over their chests in an eerily similar way. Bran and Rickon hardly cared, both itching to go back to playing soccer. When attention turned to Sansa and Jon, she began wringing her hands together nervously as he shuffled anxiously in place.

“Is this true?” Ned asked, looking between them.

Every single thing that she could possibly say flew out of her mind. It wasn’t until Jon stepped closer to her and slid his hand into hers that she relaxed. As her fingers entwined with his, he squeezed her hand gently and she let out a slow, relenting sigh. They exchanged a comforting look with one another before turning back to face their family, for Jon was as much a part of it as Sansa.

“I love her, sir,” he said to Ned.

“And I love him,” Sansa said, her voice clear and steady.

Nothing that they could have said would have shaken the others more than that. To the Starks, Jon and Sansa would never be more than reluctant acquaintances, much less in love.

“Are you sure?” Arya said, squinting at them suspiciously.

It took a few seconds, but Jon was the first to break, a loud guffaw slipping out of his mouth. Sansa put her free hand over her lips as a giggle rose in her throat. Robb tried his best but couldn't hold back his amusement, his face brightening as he grinned. Catelyn buried her face in Ned’s shoulder as they both shook with attempting to suppress their laughter. Soon, they were all in stitches, even Bran and Rickon. Later when they were tangled with each other on the couch watching a movie with the rest of the family, Jon and Sansa quietly agreed that it was ridiculous to keep it hidden. In truth, they had very little to worry about. Though, in the last few weeks of summer, the others began to wish that the two would have continued in the secret for a while longer if only for the sheer amount of times they were caught kissing around the house.


	2. Canon AU - Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealous Jon

It was hard not to overindulge with Satin nearby, refilling his cup of ale every time it emptied with a mischievous look in his eyes. The longer it went on, the less willing he was to stay his steward's hand, especially when a banner of copper hair caught his eye and held it. The men in his camp could hardly be blamed for seeking her out. They were at war and pretty things were hard to come by. Still, frustration simmered beneath his skin as he watched her twirl about, her hair lit by the fair and her face awash with happiness. Jon could see the flush in her cheeks and the shine in her eyes even where she sat. Even beneath his annoyance, Jon couldn't help but feel thankful that she no longer looked as she did when they found her in the Vale.

The march to the Gates of the Moon had been frustrating for both Jon and the already war-weary men that he brought along. What he found was a shell of the girl he once called sister, and now called cousin. Her hair was dark and her skin waxen. Her blue eyes were dull, haunted by the years she spent away from Winterfell. Still, she embraced him like there was no one else she’d rather see. Her voice was soft when she told him that she thought of him often, that she imagined how sweet their reunion would be. Despite her frail exterior, she stood tall and stone-like when he took Petyr Baelish’s head with Longclaw. The further they got from the Vale, and the more her copper hair began to shine through the dark brown, the more she became like the Sansa he knew Jon fondly recalled the day that he first coaxed a smile out of her. When he began his campaign across Westeros to claim the throne, Sansa refused to be sent away and he was secretly glad, not wanting to let her go.

Sansa’s laughter brought him back to the present as Tormund whirled her around the fire, his large arm wrapped around her small waist as she clutched at him. Her head was thrown back with a delighted look upon it. Jon knew without a doubt that there was a dark look on his own face. He was the rightful King of Westeros, the prince that was promised, as the Red Woman claimed him to be when he climbed off of his funeral pyre unburnt and alive. Yet here he was, glowering over his cup like the bastard he once was, in the midst of his army watching as his beautiful cousin danced with one man after another. When Pyp claimed her hand and she wrapped her arm around his shoulders, Jon let out a nonsense grumble and looked away just as someone tossed themselves into the seat next to him. He only had to glance at the small ax strapped to her waist to know who it was.

“Do you not wish to dance, Lady Asha?” he asked.

“I do not, Lord Snow,” she replied, narrowing her eyes at him.

Asha Greyjoy might have been overly familiar at times, but her unimpressed nature was something that he was incredibly grateful for most of the time. Despite her brother’s crimes against Winterfell, he found her to be a helpful advisor and capable fighter.

“You would do well to seek another’s company if you wish for amusement. I will not be very cheerful tonight."

A snort passed through her lips as she recognized the irony in that statement. Jon was many things, but cheerful was not one of them.

“I hardly noticed,” Asha remarked dryly. “I was sent over here to tell you to pull your head out of your ass.”

Jon turned his head slowly, raising his eyebrows as their eyes met.

“Oh pardon me. Pull your head out of your royal ass, Your Grace,” she said, bowing her head to him with a smirk on her lips.

If he wasn’t so annoyed, Jon might have laughed.

“Who sent you?” he asked before taking a long drink of his ale.

“Take your pick,” she replied, gesturing around the gathered men. “Many of your men have noticed their king’s dour demeanor.”

“And they all said that I should pull my head out of my ass?” he questioned doubtfully.

“In a more respectful way but the message was still the same.” Asha shrugged, taking a long drink of her ale.

Jon huffed and glanced away in time to see Sansa spin with a flourish of skirts as Grenn watched her with elation in his eyes.

“If you weren’t being so stupid, you would see that girl has been tossing you looks all night,” Asha informed him. “I would call her foolish and tell her that there’s no need to twirl about since your eyes have been in her direction all night. Then I realized that you’ve been glaring at the men dancing with her instead of getting your kingly ass off of this bench to claim her yourself.”

He remained silent, refusing to look in the direction of the dancers.

“Tormund said that the last time he saw a man looking at a woman the way that you look at her, she was stolen within a fortnight.”

Jon glanced at her and, if he didn’t know any better, he would describe her expression as innocent.

“I’m not going to steal Sansa.” he refused.

Asha snorted once as she stood, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“And if she wants to be stolen?” she said in his ear before walking off.

Jon sat up straighter, his eyes flitting over to the fire. It was brief, so quick that he might have missed it if he wasn’t looking. Sansa was laughing with Pyp and Grenn about something but her eyes moved to him just for a moment. Her gaze was heated in a way that had nothing to do with the large fire that the free folk had built. She looked positively _starving_. The idea that she’d been giving him those looks all night made warmth flood his body. Jon stood to his feet without really thinking about where he meant to go, crossing the hard ground with sure steps. People around him were bowing and greeting him but he did not say a word, only nodding at them in response. He curved around the edge of the fire, his eyes on Sansa.

When he saw her glance over at the table, a thrill of dark excitement ran through him. He saw confusion writ across her face for a moment and Jon watched as she surreptitiously glanced around the camp, trying to find him. When her eyes fell on him across the fire, she froze in place and did not look away. Their gazes remained locked for so long that the men around her drifted away, knowing that they would get no more dances from her that night. Jon tilted his head towards the tents, turning to walk off before she could respond. Two guards followed him, taking their appointment quite seriously. He nodded at them before entering, a signal for them to dismiss themselves for a while. The men knew better than to refuse. Even if he were not the king, he knew his way around a sword quite well. As he unbuckled his belt and laid the Longclaw across his table, he heard the whisper of his tent flap being pushed aside. Jon glanced over his shoulder as Sansa entered, her hands tangled in the dark blue skirts of her dress as she lifted it from the dirt.

“Your Grace,” she said quietly, sinking into a curtsy.

“Sansa, please,” Jon sighed.

He leaned back against the table, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. She crossed the tent almost silently, her footsteps barely making a sound. Jon knew that she learned such ways at the Vale under the tutelage of Littlefinger, how to fade into the background, to make herself unseen so that she could hear everything. Sansa did not have need for his lessons any longer but just as Jon had a hard time breaking from the habits formed at the Wall, she did not easily separate herself from the life of lies and fear that Baelish built around her for several years. As one soft hand slid around his wrist and pulled it away, the other cupped his cheek gently. Jon opened his eyes to stare down into hers, seeing that she looked concerned but also curious. She stepped closer to him and he could smell the sweet wine on her breath as well as the lingering scent of rosewater that she dabbed on her wrists and throat every morning

“Jon?” she whispered, the sound of his name on her lips feeding the heat that simmered within him. “Are you unwell? I was concerned for you during the meal…”

Jon didn’t know if it was the ale that urged him on or the remnants of jealousy burning within him but when he wrapped an arm around her waist and slid the other hand into her hair, he felt unashamed. Sansa let out a gasp as he brought her in close contact with his body, their noses nearly brushing.

“Is that what you were feeling for me, Sansa?” he said, his voice husky as he tilted his head to nose at her ear. “Concern?”

“Jon,” she breathed, tilting her head back as he skimmed his lips along her jaw.

His hand gripped her hip tightly and she clutched at his shoulders, trembling enough that he felt it beneath his hands.

“The others said…” she trailed off, her breath hitching as he stroked his thumb over her pulse point.

“What did they say?”

Jon pulled away, looking down at her heavy-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks.

“They said you were angry that I was in their arms, and not your own.”

He felt even more annoyed that her dancing partners not only had their hands upon her all night, but that they were exactly right about his mood. Jon let out a low growl and ducked his head, mouthing at her neck. Sansa shuddered against him before slipping her fingers into his hair, forcing him to lift his head. Her eyes had cleared and she was staring at him with surprise in those lovely blue depths.

“They were right,” she marveled, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Of course they were right,” Jon said, both of his hands wrapping around her waist as he twisted them around. “They were touching you, holding you, hearing your laughter, and sharing your happiness. All while I was forced to watch.”

Sansa gasped when he lifted her onto his table, sitting her down before maneuvering himself between her legs. His lips trailed along her collarbone before his head dropped to kiss the soft swell of her breasts that peeked out from the bodice of her gown.

“Oh gods,” she said in a strangled voice, clutching at his hair once more.

He kissed his way back up her chest and along the column of her throat before hovering with his lips so near to hers.

“I waited for you to dance with me, to claim me, to steal me," Sansa said in a low voice, her blue eyes growing dark with desire.

Jon let out a groan and yanked her to him, sealing his lips over hers. Sansa arched into him, parting her lips to his tongue and kissing him with equal passion. When he pulled away, she let out a whimper of protest and chased his lips.

“Gods, I’ve been an idiot,” he grumbled, pressing his forehead against hers.

She let out a soft giggle and hooked a leg around his hip.

“Then you must make up for it, my king,” Sansa murmured in his ear before brushing her lips along his jaw.

“Gladly,” Jon agreed, claiming her lips once more.


	3. Canon AU - Direwolf Magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is a long standing tradition for newly born Stark children to be gifted a direwolf at a young age to bond with. It is then expected that the direwolf will be the one to pick its master's mate. Complications arrive when Lady and Ghost pick Jon and Sansa.

The tradition was well known within the North. Anyone from the other kingdoms that caught wind of it nearly always dismissed it as silly superstition or a story for children. yet it never failed that each time a Stark child was born, a direwolf was found close enough to Winterfell that no one could mistake it as coincidence. Catelyn Stark had been equal parts thrilled and terrified when Ned deposited the wolf into Robb’s crib. The grey pup simply sniffed at his charge before curling up at Robb’s feet, almost immediately falling asleep. When she turned her head, the Lady of Winterfell frowned when she saw a white wolf being settled into the other crib.

“Really, Ned?” she said, trying to keep the vehemence out of her voice.

She was unsuccessful and the others in the room all looked uncomfortable as yet another confrontation brewed between husband and wife.

“He is my blood, Cat. The wolves were found together." he said without looking at her, scratching at the white direwolf’s ruff. "The gods have spoken."

The runt hadn’t made a sound at all and he wondered if it ever would. Just as his brother took to the heir of Winterfell, this one took to the bastard with ease, curling next to Jon Snow with his red eyes fixed intently upon the infant’s face. Catelyn turned away, brushing her thumb over her son’s downy auburn hair with a soft sigh. The gods had spoken and their words did nothing to ease her concerns. Jon Snow, no matter who his mother was, was a threat to Ned’s trueborn son. His silent direwolf only proved that, an ever-present shadow for the young boy just as Grey Wind was for Robb.

*****

The first female direwolf since Lyanna Stark was found sitting patiently outside of Winterfell’s gates only hours after Sansa’s birth, as bells rang cheerily through the cold northern air. She was small and calm, allowing Grey Wind and Ghost to bound around her, one yapping happily and the other only showing his excitement with his wriggling tail. Just like he had done with the two boys, Ned carefully set the wolf into Sansa’s crib and smiled when his first daughter’s hand slid into the animal’s fur and she held on as she slept. Once Catelyn drifted off to sleep and mend, he brought Jon and Robb into the room after extracting solemn promises that they would be quiet. The boys leaned over the crib with their father’s help and shared an awed look as they beheld their sister.

Her eyes fluttered open after a moment and Robb noted with quiet delight that they were just like his. Jon reached out and scratched at the direwolf’s ears and the pup lifted her head sleepily, sniffing his hand before licking it several times. When Robb tried the same, the direwolf simply turned her head away, bringing a pout to his face. Ned’s face creased with concern for a just moment as he glanced between Jon and Sansa before he shook his head, assuring himself that he was reading more into the wolf's actions than he should have been.

“Will she like us, Papa?” Robb whispered, turning curious blue eyes up to look at him.

“She’ll love you, Robb. Both of you,” Ned assured his boys, patting their shoulders lightly.

They both looked down at Sansa once more as she tracked them with her bright eyes.

“Will you protect her and keep her safe from the harms of this world?” he asked.

“Yes Papa,” the boys said at once.

He looked at them proudly, allowing them a few minutes more until Sansa fell asleep.

*****

Several years later, just after Sansa’s seventh nameday, Ned’s concerns grew into something more concrete. The maid came to him rather than his lady wife, much to his relief as he approached the door to Sansa’s chamber. Ghost would not be guarding the door if his charge was not inside and Catelyn would have been less than pleased at such a sight and the implication that came with it. Hovering near to the door in hesitation, Ned looked down into Ghost's red eyes and saw no answer in their depths. After heaving a great sigh, he commanded his own direwolf to stay behind before pushing the door open. Lady was lying at the end of Sansa’s bed, her eyes opening only to see who was there before she deemed him safe.

As he neared the bed, he stopped short and stared at the sight before him for a long stretch of time. Jon was tucked beneath Sansa’s furs with her, his arms wrapped around her protectively. Her small head was lying atop his chest as they both slept on. Ned wasn’t sure what to make of it. There was something in the back of his mind that tugged at him but he pushed it away. They were raised as half-brother and sister, no matter the true nature of Jon’s parentage. Surely the gods wouldn’t have such things in mind. He shook his head as he crossed the room to the bed, reaching out and shook the boy gently, making sure that he didn’t jostle his young daughter. Jon’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he stared around blearily before his attention fell on Ned, his eyes growing wide at once.

“Come on,” Ned said, keeping his voice gentle to ensure Jon that he was not angry.

He slid out of the furs slowly, careful not to wake Sansa. As he walked away with Ned, Jon’s voice was low.

“She was having a nightmare. Ghost brought me here,” he said quietly, glancing back at her.

“It’s all right, Jon,” Ned assured him despite the tightening in his chest. “You were only protecting her, as you vowed.”

The boy nodded, looking relieved that he understood.

“Go off to your chambers and get ready for the day,” he said, sending him along.

Jon turned away, snapping his fingers by his side.

“With me, Ghost,” he instructed.

The silent direwolf glanced at Ned as if he could sense his turmoil before bounding off after Jon.

*****

It all came to a head once Sansa’s fifteenth nameday passed. Robb’s direwolf had chosen for him already, ensuring a marriage between the heir of Winterfell and Jeyne Westerling, who had been visiting the North with her family when Grey Wind almost knocked her off of her horse in his excitement. Ghost and Lady were much calmer about it and their choice was so subtle and slow that it even took Ned a while to catch onto what the wolves were trying to tell everyone. Jon was one of the first to figure it out, as Ghost started going to Sansa’s room at night instead of his. Each time they passed her chamber, the direwolf would stop and stare at him expectantly before scratching at the door until she allowed him entry.

The next day, as Jon sat in quiet contemplation in the godswood with Ned as the elder sharpened his sword, Ghost and Lady trotted through the trees and both flopped to the ground on either side of him laying their heads on his thighs. When he looked up at the man he thought to be his father with a startled expression, Ned did not know what to say. Jon was smart. He would know soon enough, if he did not already suspect. Ned knew that he should have told him the truth then but he remained silent, telling Jon that there was nothing to be concerned about. While Robert still lived, it was too dangerous for anyone to know, much less his nephew.

Soon after, others began noticing the strange behavior of the direwolves.

Sansa was not the stupid girl that Arya accused her of being and when she came to her father with her hands twisting in her skirts, he knew that she had caught on as well. It was rare that she came to Ned rather than Catelyn and when she tearfully asked him if Lady was choosing Jon for her, he drew her into his arms and assured her that it couldn’t be the case. The gods must have wished to punish him for his ignorance, because his lady wife was the next to notice. Catelyn came to him immediately, demanding to know how long it had been going on. When he didn’t deny the signs, she grew more furious than he had seen her in years. The usually calm and collected Lady of Winterfell shouted and raged at him, demanding that he send the boy to the Wall so that their daughter would remain untarnished. That was when he finally spoke the truth for the first time since Jon’s birth.

His wife listened as he explained what he found at the tower of joy, that his sister was dying of childbed fever after the birth of her son by Rhaegar Targaryen. He told her that the entire tale of Harrenhal was never known by anyone outside of the Stark family, for how could they tell the world that Lyanna’s direwolf chose a man already married? A prince, no less? Ned spoke the truth of Lyanna’s last words, extracting a vow that he would raise Jon as his own and shield him from the fate of Rhaegar’s other children. He told his wife how his sister died of a broken heart because of her mate’s death in battle and how her direwolf perished beside her in the same moment that Lyanna took her last breath. Catelyn was stunned, her voice failing her for a long time. Ned was patient, allowing her to process the information.

When she spoke, it was to ask him how they were supposed to explain the fact that Jon and Sansa were destined for each other, as chosen by the gods. He told her that the day would come that Jon’s true parentage would be made known to all of Westeros and that if the gods willed it, the Iron Throne would be his. But first, they had to reveal the truth to their children, as well as their nephew. It was not an easy conversation. When Jon ran out, Robb started to follow but Catelyn stopped him, surprising them all as she nodded at Sansa to go. Several minutes later, when the children were dismissed, the Lord and Lady of Winterfell stood at the window and watched as the two knelt in the snow embracing, their direwolves sitting near and looking very happy with themselves as their charges finally understood what they had been trying to say all along.

*****

Time passed and everything changed. After the war, after loss and winter and fights against the North itself, the Red Keep was filled with more direwolves than anyone thought could fit. Even as the lords and ladies of Westeros gathered in the Great Hall, they were disconcerted to see that the large animals were lined up behind the Iron Throne, standing with their humans as they awaited the entrance of the newly crowned monarchs. As the doors opened wide, everyone forgot the presence of the disconcerting creatures as their king and queen walked along the hall, their hands delicately entwined. King Jon looked solemn, his head held high and his rich clothing black in color, lovingly stitched by the nimble fingers of his wife. On his head was an iron crown, ruins of the First Men engraved on it.

The queen was everything she ought to be, the maiden and the mother in one. Her pale blue samite gown, crafted of the finest silks, was covered with a dove grey cloak. Atop her fiery locks sat a circlet that was similar to her husband's. Behind them, their direwolves trailed with an air of dignity all their own, heads held just as high and eyes fixed upon the wedded couple. Men bowed and women curtsied as their new king and queen passed, their faces carved out of ice but the warmth in their eyes showing the good, just rulers that they would be. Jon did not sit before his wife, taking her hand and kneeling before her much to the astonishment of the gathered nobles.

“My queen,” he murmured, bending over to kiss her hand.

Sansa smiled at him, lifting her other hand to curve around his cheek.

“My king,” she said softly.

Jon grinned, a look reserved for her alone that crinkled the corners of his sparkling eyes. When he turned to face his court again, they both had the air of royalty once more, sitting side-by-side on the thrones with their hands clasped between them. Behind them, Ned walked to his nephew and clasped his shoulder. Jon glanced up at the man he still considered his father whether it was true or not, seeing pride in his eyes. With his love by his side and Eddard Stark as his Hand, he knew that everything was as it should be.

*****

After the feasting and dancing to celebrate their coronation, Sansa and Jon finally retired to her chambers. As she sat at the looking glass to remove her jewelry and unwind her hair from the braids, Jon watched from his relaxed perch on the bed. Ghost and Lady were out for the night, hunting in the Kingswood with their fellow wolves.

“I remember the day that you were born.”

Sansa glanced at him over her shoulder, standing up as her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders.

“When you vowed to protect me?” she said, walking to him.

Jon reached out for her, pulling her slim body between his legs as he spread them to accommodate her.

“You were so quiet and calm, and I do not think I’ve loved the sight of someone more in my entire life,” he said, deftly unlacing her gown without even looking at the ties at her back.

Sansa smiled, brushing his curls out of his face.

“You are most beloved to me as well,” she said, allowing him to slip her gown off of her shoulders to pool at her feet.

Jon pulled her back onto the bed, her legs straddling his waist as they kissed slowly and with as much passion as they could muster.

“I could not imagine a better queen to rule at my side or a lovelier woman to call my wife,” he said once he pulled away, looking up at her with wonder.

“Hopefully, you will never have to.” Sansa murmured, leaning to down kiss him once more.

Nine months later, when a new prince and princess came into the world, no one questioned it when two direwolves appeared at the gates to the Red Keep. The king did not hesitate before collecting them in the courtyard and carrying them straight to the cribs of his newborn children. The queen watched with a smile as the pups were laid with Lya and Torrhen, calming the newborns instantly. Though the southron people did not understand the superstitions and traditions of their northern king and queen, they loved them all the same.


	4. Canon AU - Sansa vs Dany

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa facing off with Dany about the north (and Jon specifically). Something like Dany wanting to keep Jon with her because of the prophecy and the queen in the north wanting to "steal" him.

“Why should I grant you the North?”

Upon hearing the words, Sansa knew why the Dragon Queen requested a meeting in the privacy of her royal apartments. She froze with a cup of wine halfway to her lips, her eyes lifting to meet the violet eyes of the other woman. Daenerys Targaryen was as beautiful as they said, but beautiful things did not deter Sansa any longer. She knew that, quite often, the most attractive things often hid the darkness within. Slowly, she reached out and put the sweet wine down and straightened her posture, knowing that her fight was not over.

Daenerys had been all too willing to ally with Sansa and her men to receive shelter in their fight against the Others. When she brought her dragons and vast armies, the Queen in the North could not turn her away. With Jon leading the men from below with a flaming sword, the true Lightbringer, they overcame the creatures after a long, hard-fought war. Now they were back in King’s Landing and Sansa was an unwilling guest of the queen and her husband, the supposed Aegon Targaryen. As she looked upon the one they called Stormborn and Unburnt, Sansa was not quelled.

“The North is mine by right, as it was my brother’s,” she replied in a steady voice.

“The Young Wolf? Is it true what they said?” Daenerys asked, looking curious.

Sansa knew what she spoke of, shaking her head to deny it.

“Robb could no more turn into a wolf than you can a dragon."

“But you can delve within the mind of an animal, all of you.” the other woman said, leaning forward with a glint in her eye.

Sansa’s hands twisted her skirts beneath the table. This was why Daenerys was convinced that Jon was the third head of her dragon. He had commanded one of the dragons during the battles without riding it, able to warg into the creature to control it. Sansa did not know whether he was truly Azor Ahai or the prince that was promised, but she was certain of one thing.

“Those who can do so belong in the North," she said, all but confirming it.

Daenerys narrowed her eyes at her, knowing exactly what she meant by it.

“The North has been part of the realm since Aegon the Conqueror."

“No southron king or queen can rule the North adequately. The lands need someone who knows it. A ruler who knows the people and can rule them justly.” Sansa said, trying and failing to keep the frustration out of her voice.

“I am just," Daenerys said quickly, anger flashing through her eyes.

Sansa fought the scoff that rose up in her throat. It would not do well to remind the Dragon Queen of the villages that she burned in her campaign to overtake a realm that was already bleeding from the actions of all the kings and queens before her.

“You know nothing of winter. You cannot know when to tell people that it is time to store their grains or how to prepare when a great storm is coming. You do not know of the Gift or the free folk. You don’t know the wolfswood or the Lonely Hills. The North, and its people, will not stand to be ruled by another person, man or woman, who does not know it.” Sansa said passionately.

“They would choose you over me?” Daenerys asked.

“I am a Stark,” she said.

“The last Stark. It would be easy to end the line.”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at her, her face hardening to stone.

“The last time a Stark was executed in King’s Landing, it started a war. I do not think you wish to begin fighting again so quickly when the last war only just ended,” she said, challenging Daenerys to disagree. “And I doubt that your nephew would be pleased to hear of such words. I am not the last Stark, Your Grace. Jon is of the North and has the blood of the First Men just as I do.”

“He also has the blood of Old Valyria. He belongs with his family,” Daenerys snapped, her control on her emotions slipping as her violet eyes flashed dangerously.

Sansa was not intimidated, having faced far worse things than the young woman across from her. She reached out and picked up her cup of wine, taking a fortifying drink.

“Look into Jon’s eyes, study his face and tell me what you see, and then you shall know where truly belongs,” Sansa said, her voice as cold as ice. “He is of the North, just as I am. If you keep him in the south, he will not survive.”

“What do you care of his fate? Did your family not condemn him to be a bastard?”

“Your Grace might be grateful for the my father's actions. Without them, Jon would be another victim of Robert Baratheon’s reign.”

Sansa could tell that an insult to Ned Stark was on the tip of the other woman’s tongue. She knew very well that Daenerys’ view of her father was not a positive one, that she saw him as much responsible for her family’s downfall as Robert.

“You grew rather close to Jon on your journey to King’s Landing,” Daenerys said, moving the subject away from Ned.

It was an attempt to catch Sansa off-guard. To make her admit to something. Anything that Daenerys could use against her.

“We are the last two of the family that we knew, of the life that we lived. It was only natural for us to find our way to each other,” Sansa replied, refusing to give in to her game.

“And now you are cousins, not siblings. That is rather… convenient,” Daenerys said, one eyebrow quirking upwards.

Sansa stared back at her calmly, allowing no break in her composure that would give her anything to latch onto. If the queen knew the truth of the night that they knelt before the Heart Tree in Riverrun and vowed to remain true to one another, Daenerys would likely burn them together, the prince that was promised or not. Sansa refused to allow her hand to twitch to the swell of her stomach beneath the carefully laced gown that hid the evidence of their coupling. No, she had to do this carefully. She had to ensure that Jon returned to the North with her. Even if she had to steal him away as they did amongst the free folk that loved her husband.

“I know that Jon has spoken to you of his wishes. The North is his home, whether you choose to believe it or not.”

“This is his place, with his family. He is my heir and with that comes responsibilities to the crown.” Daenerys said, her small hands gripping the arms of her chair.

Sansa narrowed her eyes, feeling a rush of possessiveness.

“Tell him that you command him to love you, to remain behind, to become your second husband and the third head of the dragon. See how quickly his deference and loyalty turns to hatred. See the burning of his gaze as he wishes you would have died in the storm you were born in.” she hissed.

Daenerys’ eyes widened and her eyes flitted to the door, where she could easily bring her guards through to take Sansa’s head in that very room.

“You know that I am right. There is no situation in which you have Jon as he is now. You will never have more than his tentative loyalty and that can easily be broken. His honor will always bound him to his true family, to his home, and you can provide neither of those for him.” Sansa said, forcing herself to grow calm.

The southron queen leaned forward in her chair, a challenging look upon her face. Yet, despite her hardened exterior, Sansa could see the flicker of doubt forming in her eyes and knew that she already won.

“You think that you will leave this place as a queen with my nephew?” Daenerys asked, arching one perfect eyebrow.

“I think that I will leave this place as a woman with my cousin. It is only within Winterfell that I will become Queen of the North.”

“And what of Jon? Will he be your king?”

Sansa shrugged, careless of the unladylike nature of the gesture.

“He will be as he chooses. I will not force him into anything,” she said, making it clear that she would be nothing like his aunt.

Daenerys sat back in her chair, her finger stroking the wood of her chair and her body poised as if she were on the Iron Throne itself. Her eyes flitted over Sansa and she considered her carefully.

“Perhaps it is true what they say, that the Starks are carved from the ice of the Wall itself,” she said, a small smile on her face.

“The Wall has fallen, Your Grace. House Stark will endure,” Sansa said, sitting in her chair with a regal air of her own.

“And so it will, Your Grace,” Daenerys nodded at her.

When the women walked into the Great Hall to face the court, it was not as queen and her subject. They walked side-by-side, equals in their birthright. The two queens of Westeros. As Sansa watched the Dragon Queen ascend the dais to sit her throne, she did not mind that her children, grandchildren, and so on would possibly sit there one day. After all, she played a dangerous game and won. And now she was leaving the capital once and for all with her king at her side and their heir growing in her womb. The North would rebuild. Sansa and Jon would make sure of it. She gave him a smile as he crossed to her side, his hand slipping gently into her own.

“Let's go home.”


	5. Modern AU - Break Up + Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Love is a cycle: You love then you get hurt. You’re hurt then you hate. You hate then you try to forget. You try to forget then you start missing. You are missing… when you fall in love again."

“Did it have to be my sister?”

Jon flushed and looked over at his best friend, wondering if it really did bother him so much.

“I’m not sure I had control over it,” he admitted.

Robb stared him down for a few moments before he let out a laugh, glancing across the room where Sansa was chatting happily with Margaery Tyrell, a glass of champagne pinched delicately between her slender fingers.

“She can be pretty pushy when she wants. I guess if she set her sights on you—”

“It was me.” Jon cut him off.

The other man looked at him with surprise.

“She’s beautiful, Robb, and she’s got this warmth about her that just... drew me in. I never saw it before, I guess I never had the chance, but I see it now. Sansa said no at first. She didn’t want to hurt you or Arya. I told her that I would wait, if she wanted me to, for her to figure it out,” he said, shuffling his feet as he looked anywhere but at the man who was his brother in all but name.

Robb reached up, clapping a hand on his shoulder.

“You really love her, don’t you?” he asked.

Jon nodded, smiling slightly as he looked up at Sansa. She was looking back at him, happiness exuding from her as she peeked at him through her lashes and gave him a small smile.

“I do,” he said.

Robb nodded as well, giving him a sound thump on the back.

“Don’t screw it up, Snow. She might be the best thing that ever happened to you, and vice versa,” he said, drifting off to find Jeyne.

*****

In the end, it didn't matter who started the fight or what it was about. Sansa turned away as he opened the door to her apartment, unable to bear the sight of him walking away. He'd promised that he would always be there. With a resounding slam of the door, that promise was broken and her heart shattered. Sansa couldn't bear to face it, to admit to anyone that it was over. When her phone began pinging with texts and calls, she switched it off with a broken sob, knowing that Jon must have told Robb or Arya. After several miserable days of crying and sleeping, Sansa threw herself into school and work during the day only to come home to an empty apartment. It wasn't until her mother showed up at her door with sympathy in her eyes that Sansa finally came to terms with the reality of the situation.

It was over.

Catelyn helped her clean up her apartment, comforting her each time she found something of Jon's and broke down. Slowly, she filled a cardboard box with everything that belonged to him. When her mother suggested giving it to Robb so that he could make sure it all found its way back to Jon, Sansa refused, shoving the box into the back of her closet. It wasn't healthy. She knew that. But she needed to have some part of him close to her. She couldn't bear to forget, even if she felt her heart breaking all over again each time she remembered what she'd lost. Until one day, as she crossed the main street of the small university town and yanked open the door of her favorite coffee shop only to see him standing at the counter. It felt as if she had been punched in the chest, air rushing from her lungs and her body growing numb all at once.

It wasn't that he was laughing when she couldn't remember the last time that she'd cracked more than the smallest of smiles. It wasn't the girl standing beside him, because Sansa knew Gilly and was halfway certain that she and Sam would be engaged soon if they weren't already. Gods, she must have missed so much. The most painful part of seeing him was that he looked no different than the last time they were in the same room. His hair was just as messy, the riotous curls falling in his face as they always did, causing him to sweep them back with a pale hand. His shirt was wrinkled, a shirt that she remembered wearing more than once herself, and his jeans were worn in several places. He looked so devastatingly beautiful to her that her eyes burned with tears and her heart felt as if it could not take more hurt.

They weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of anger, of anguish, of hatred. The worst part of it was that Sansa knew that she could not hate this much without love and the thought infuriated her even more. When his head lifted and he looked straight at her, as if he sensed that she was there, Sansa was already stepping backwards. The smile fell from his face and he looked just as stunned as she felt. He looked as if he might come to her, a spark of hope in his eyes that hurt more than anything, but she shook her head, making it clear that she had nothing to say to him. As she turned to walk away, she brushed the tears from her cheeks and prayed for the deep, aching hurt to stop. She was desperate for it to end.

Sansa heard him call her name but she didn't stop even as she choked out a sob, breaking into a run as she neared the parking lot. She got as far as the driver's seat and locked the doors before slumping over the steering wheel, her hands gripping it so tightly that her knuckles whitened and her fingers ached. It had been weeks since she cried so deeply. She thought that she was getting better but the wound was only partly closed only to be ripped open again at the sight of him, looking just like the Jon that she loved. Sansa knew that she couldn't bear seeing him again and their town was small enough that it was almost a guarantee that she would. As soon as the school semester ended, she quit her job, withdrew from the university, and packed everything that she owned.

Her mother and father didn't seem all that surprised when she showed up on their doorstep late one night, after driving nonstop to get home. Catelyn gave her a cup of hot chocolate as Ned called Robb. Watching from the couch, Sansa felt more and more withdrawn as she watched them carry her belongings up to her old room. When Robb came in carrying the box of Jon's things, she stopped him with a call of his name and told him to give them back. She couldn't have that stuff anymore. It would only make it harder to heal. Robb simply nodded, though he looked somewhat bothered as he took the box out to his car. When he came back in, he sat on the couch and held her close as her tears wet his shirt, comforting her as best he could.

When she dried her tears, she was determined that they would be the last. She had to forget, or she feared that she would never be happy again.

*****

The more she tried to forget, the more she realized that it simply wasn't going to happen. The anger and hatred slowly melted away, replaced by the ache of missing him. She thought that moving back home would fix whatever was broken within her but the missing pieces were too much to bear and she felt like she was barely involved in her own life. Every time something reminded of her Jon, Sansa slipped deeper within herself and let the misery take over. She didn't let anyone know how bad it was. Her family was already concerned enough without them knowing the burden upon her shoulders. Even Arya, who was furious with Sansa after the break-up, looked worried when she saw the darkness shrouding her eyes.

The more she missed him, the more desperate she felt to see him. Sansa knew that moving home was probably the best decision she could have made but taking herself so far away from him caused her more pain. There was no end in sight, no expiration date for the turmoil within her. She thought that she was doing a good job of hiding it but, in the end, her family knew all along. It was hard not to notice that she was only a shell of her former self. They knew that something had to be done but no one would talk about it long enough to figure it out. Finally, Robb and Arya had enough and acted without knowing about the other, both making the same phone call in the same night.

When the knock sounded from the front door, no one stood to answer it. Sansa stared around at her family, wondering why none of them even reacted to it. When it happened again, she pushed herself off of the couch and walked to the door. Before she even opened it, she somehow knew who would be on the other side. Sansa’s hand gripped the doorknob and she closed her eyes, taking a deep breath before pulling it open. He stood there, looking much as he did in the grocery store, but different now that she could see him up close. In reality, he looked just as bad as she did.

As they stared at each other, everything else went away. The anger, pain, and sadness of the past few months were pushed out of her mind as she stared into his dark grey eyes. Sansa found herself reaching for him before she knew it and he didn’t hesitate for a moment longer, taking her into his arms and holding her as close as he could. She knew that she was crying, that the numbness was gone and she was feeling with everything she had. When she felt wetness soaking into her shirt, she knew that Jon was crying as well.

“I love you.” Sansa choked out, knowing that it was the only thing that she could truly say.

"I love you too."

She let out a sob, not knowing until that moment how much she needed to hear it. They still had a lot to sort through and as they talked that night in the middle of a park where they could have privacy, they spoke of almost everything that they needed to say. When they returned to her house and she brought him up to her room, Jon spotted the box on the bed first and gave her a questioning look when he saw his name written on the side. Reaching out, Sansa took hold of the piece of paper that sat on the top and saw that it was a note scribbled out in her brother’s writing.

_I knew you would want this back eventually. Don’t let him go again. He’s the best thing that’ll ever happen to you, and vice versa._


	6. Canon AU - Queensguard Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Queensguard Jon

“What are you thinking, Lord Snow?”

Jon jerked out of his thoughts, remembering the steel in his hand and where he stood in the training yard of Winterfell.

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with, Kingslayer,” he replied, glowering at the knight.

Jaime simply smirked back at him, unbothered by his cold response. If Sansa were near, she would disapprove of Jon calling him such a thing but she was not in the yard and it was a game between them besides. Jaime knew that Jon hated being called Lord Snow just as much as he hated being addressed as Kingslayer.

“Then, by all means, let us fight. Unless you’re still brooding over the presence of all these lords in your castle?” Jaime said, gesturing around with his golden hand.

Jon adjusted the sword in his hand, refusing to allow the knight to anger him.

“It is not my castle,” he said in a low tone.

“And it never will be, if one of these stiff noblemen manages to convince our queen to finally marry. You should have taken that chance when you had it, Snow. Not every man is offered a choice between two beautiful women.”

Jon narrowed his eyes at the older man, wondering if they would ever actually get around to sparring. Jaime looked content to circle him with a smirk on his face.

“But instead of marrying and becoming king of one realm or another, our prince that was promised chose to forsake all personal gain and became Lord Commander of the Queen in the North’s guard. How very noble of him.” Jaime taunted.

Jon launched forward with a quiet growl, getting a few thrusts in before Jaime slipped away from him with a laugh.

“You could have been warming a queen’s bed each night and living in luxury each day but instead you’re out here with a bunch of traitors and wildlings while men with half your skills come through here and try to chain her to them.”

If Jon did not know what he knew, he would be attacking Jaime with all of his being. But he held himself back, simply glaring at him. The Kingslayer spoke about things that he did not understand, trying to make it seem like he knew everything. Winterfell did not have the household of the Red Keep and it was not hard to keep up with the daily happenings of the castle. It was difficult to keep something hidden, which is why no one suspected a thing. Jon hid the smile that threatened to tug at the corner of his lips, sheathing his sword at his belt.

“And here I thought we were enjoying ourselves,” Jaime said, watching as he walked away.

“I have to prepare for the feast,” Jon called back.

It was certainly going to be a long night.

*****

No one was surprised to see the number of lords and future lords who arrived in Winterfell for the harvest feast. Jon remembered Maester Luwin’s words from long ago, spoken to each of the Stark children before another feast of the same nature. _The feast makes a pleasant pretext, but a man does not cross a hundred leagues for a sliver of duck and a sip of wine. Only those who have matters of import to set before us are like to make the journey._ Every man and woman in the room knew the matter of import that may well be resolved at this particular feast. Their northern queen was still without a king and offers of marriage came every day.

Despite the fact that she required an heir to take over the throne upon her death, Sansa refused every one of them.

Perhaps the same men thought that if the offers were given in person, she would be unlikely to deny them again. Jon nearly laughed at the thought, knowing that Sansa was nothing like they imagined. Still, it was not easy watching her accept a dance from each and every man who asked her while he watched from his place in the shadows behind the head table. When the third hour of the feast concluded, Sansa announced her intent to retire, inviting those visiting Winterfell to continue the festivities without her. As she stood from her place and Daryn Hornwood offered to escort her to her chambers, Jon grew tense and narrowed his eyes at the man.

“As much as I appreciate it, my lord, I think that my cousin would prefer to escort me himself,” Sansa said, a polite smile on her face as she gestured to Jon.

The young man glanced at him, taking in his black clothing and dark look.

“Don’t they usually wear white cloaks?” he asked.

Sansa let out a charming laugh, laying her hand on Lord Hornwood's shoulder.

“I don’t think Jon would quite wear the white as well as the black, do you?”

She didn’t give him a chance to respond, brushing past him with a sweep of her skirts. Jon nodded at Brienne and Jaime both, following her as she eased her way out of the Great Hall. He walked three steps behind her, remaining quiet as they entered the Great Keep.

“Did you enjoy the feast?” Sansa asked, keeping her eyes forward.

“It was not my duty to enjoy the feast, Your Grace,” Jon said.

She sighed, twisting her hands in her skirts as they reached the door to her chambers. Sansa turned to face him, reaching up to tug on the crown that sat heavily atop her auburn waves.

“Perhaps next time then,” she said quietly, her eyes staring deeply into his as she pushed her door open.

Jon kept his eyes upon the door until she closed it, only moving to take up his post in the corridor. Brienne came by soon enough to ensure that he was able to remain for the night, simply nodding when he said he would. Once the castle grew calm and everyone retired to their chambers, Jon took a deep breath and knocked on the door lightly. Her voice called to him, soft and inviting, and he pushed the door open. Sansa sat before the hearth, a dark blue dressing gown tied over her nightshift and her long hair flowing around her shoulders in soft waves. She glanced over her shoulder as Jon latched the door into place before stepping further into the dimly lit room. Her fingers were moving quickly, stitching up a pair of breeches that he recognized as his own. Jon walked to her table as he unbuckled his sword belt, laying it down before picking up the flagon of Arbor Gold wine. He poured two cups, holding them in his hands as he approached her chair from behind. Jon bent down over her shoulder, pressing a kiss to the shell of her ear as she took the wine from his hand.

“How did you enjoy the feast?” he asked, sitting in the other chair with his legs stretched out before him.

Sansa gave him a tired look.

“Eleven,” she sighed, sounding frustrated. "That is how many men offered to marry me to cement alliances in the North."

Jon nodded, gazing into the fire as he took a long drink of his wine.

“And your response?” he asked.

“Did not change,” Sansa said gently, realizing how he must be feeling. “It is as though they do not think a queen can rule without a man by her side.”

Jon smiled slightly, glancing over at her.

“They do not wish to take your crown from you, Your Grace. They wish to put their sons on the ancient seat of the Starks,” he reminded her.

“Please, Jon,” she said, her eyes pleading with him.

He looked at her for a moment before setting aside his cup and standing. Sansa did not resist when he pulled her to her feet, allowing him to tug her towards the large bed.

“Sansa,” he murmured, sliding his hand into her hair.

She let out a contented sigh, pulling him down to kiss her. Jon tugged at the tie on her dressing gown, letting it fall to the ground as she pulled at the laces of his jerkin and stripped it away. His tunic quickly followed. As they fell onto the furs, Jon turned them over and hovered above her, his weight on his arms. He could see something in her eyes. A look of deep want that was somehow different than usual.

“I wish for you to spill in me tonight, Jon,” Sansa said, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek softly.

A chill ran down his spine and he faltered, staring at her with alarm.

“And when you bring a bastard into this world?” he asked, unable to hide the anger in his voice.

She looked as though she was expecting his reaction, turning them over until she straddled his lap. Jon's hands lifted to her hips of their own accord and he couldn't help but tremble as she rolled her hips against his. Leaning down, knowing exactly the effect that she had on him, Sansa brushed the softest of kisses over his throat and chest.

“I will have no bastard. Only a Stark,” she whispered, looking up at him as she unlaced his breeches.

Jon wanted desperately to refuse her, fearing that it would not work out the way she hoped, but they both knew that he was already half convinced. Sansa leaned up again, brushing her fingers over the scars upon his chest.

“And when they ask of the child’s father?” Jon breathed, sitting up to cradle her in his lap.

Her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms around his shoulders. When he slid his hand beneath her shift, Jon let out a groan when he realized that she wore no smallclothes.

“A wolf stole into my bed and captured my innocence,” Sansa said with a grin.

He let out a growl, leaning forward to nip at her lower lip. Her head titled back as he applied his teeth gently to her neck and soothed the skin with soft kisses.

“I need an heir, Jon. I do not want any of these men laying claim to Winterfell. It belongs to the Starks and it always shall,” Sansa said, clutching at his shoulders.

He exhaled against her skin, his hands bunching in the gauzy material of her shift. When he lifted it over her head and stared at her with a dark, lustful gaze, Sansa knew that she had her way. She smiled, threading her fingers through his hair as she whispered of her love for the man who devoted his life to her safety.


	7. Canon AU - Married in Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa are in the crypts of Winterfell, and talk about their dead family

It was only a fortnight after their wedding that Jon awoke to a castle in disorder and discovered that Sansa was nowhere to be found. Those who took part in the daily workings of Winterfell all looked to him, expecting that he would be able to find his lady wife with ease. Jon could hardly explain to them that they each must know more about her than he, for he had returned to the North and found a little more than a stranger awaiting him. The girl that he knew as his sister was no longer recognizable in the woman he now knew was his cousin. For the years that had separated them changed Sansa every bit as much as they changed him. No matter how much he protested, Daenerys remained steadfast in her decision and sent him to marry Sansa so that he could preside over Winterfell and the rest of the North on her behalf.

Their wedding was planned quickly and the feast afterward was hardly the grand, cheery affair that Jon remembered from Robert Baratheon’s visit. After the subdued celebration, Sansa retired to her chambers quietly and Jon knew that she was waiting on him. As he walked the corridors of the keep towards the rooms that used to belong to her lady mother, he found that he couldn’t bring himself to go any further. Like a craven, he scurried back to his rooms and sent an apologetic message Sansa’s way, knowing that he was taking the coward’s way out. Ever since that night, they spent the days as they should, politely working around each other as they saw to the daily runnings of Winterfell and the North. Each night after their evening meal, Sansa dismissed herself before him, always leaving an opening for him to come to her rooms. And each night, he made it as far as her door before walking away.

“Jon?” Sam’s voice tore him out of his thoughts.

He turned to his closest friend, who wore the chains of a maester quite well. Sam seemed to read his troubled expression with ease.

“Have you seen Sansa?” Jon asked.

“No, I haven’t. Perhaps she is in the godswood?” Sam suggested.

He shook his head, tugging on his hair with frustration.

“I checked there, and everywhere else."

“Perhaps you just missed each other. She might even be looking for you. Is there nowhere you missed?”

Jon started to assure Sam that he looked everywhere when he realized that was entirely untrue. His shoulders slumped and he sighed heavily.

“I know where she is,” he said, turning away without any further explanation.

As he crossed the yard, Jon nodded to those who bowed to him. Sometimes, he felt like an imposter. A trespasser. Everything that Lady Stark feared he would one day become. A threat to her trueborn children. Winterfell should have belonged to Sansa, and Sansa alone. Those thoughts weighed heavily on his mind as he neared the entrance to the crypts, hesitating just before the steps that would lead him down. He couldn't help but remember the dream that haunted his nights for years. Taking a deep breath, Jon pushed it all from his mind in favor of finding his lady wife. The crypts were dark and cold, illuminated by torches along the stone walls. It wasn't difficult to find her in the maze of tunnels. Jon knew where she would be. Sure enough, Sansa sat on a stone bench staring up at the marble face of her father. She gave no reaction as he approached her. Jon hovered nearby for several moments, watching her carefully and waiting to be dismissed with a sharp word.

“You look so much like him,” she finally spoke, her voice soft and quiet, barely above a whisper.

Jon glanced up at the man he considered his father for so long. For a time, he resented Ned Stark for keeping the truth of his birth to himself for so long. Now, Jon knew exactly why Ned chose to do what he did. If he had not named Jon as his bastard, Robert Baratheon surely would have had him killed, just as his sister and the child posing as his brother were brutally murdered. When his eyes flitted to the likeness that stood near to the former Lord of Winterfell, he took a deep breath and hoped that Catelyn Stark would not curse him from the afterlife for daring to wed her daughter.

“You look like her,” he said, nodding at Catelyn’s statue.

Sansa sighed, looking down at her feet rather than up at her mother. In that moment, Jon finally saw a hint of the girl that he knew in childhood. A perfect lady most of the time, yet able to summon a temper to rival Arya's when she was vexed. A small line formed in her brow, making him wonder what thoughts affected her so. When her eyes lifted and she looked up at him, he felt as though she was trying to figure something out.

“Sit with me?” she requested.

Jon did not refuse, easing himself onto the bench next to her. Sansa turned her face away from him, glancing up at her father once more.

“Do you know what one of the last things he said to me was?”

Jon shook his head, murmuring that he did not.

“He told me that when I was old enough, he would make me a match with someone who was worthy of me. Someone brave and gentle and strong.” Sansa said quietly.

He looked down at his hands, shame filling him.

“That is all that my father wanted for me and, fool that I was, I didn’t care. I wanted Joffrey. I wanted to be queen,” she murmured, shaking her head with a sigh. “Gods, I was stupid.”

“You weren’t,” Jon said quickly, looking up at her.

Sansa turned her head, staring back at him with those wide blue eyes that were darkened in the low light of the crypts.

“He wanted more for me as well, but I was headstrong and thought I knew better. It was not as though he could ban me from taking the black without having to give a reason,” he said, turning his face towards Ned Stark’s likeness. “I suppose this is not the life he meant for either of us.”

She let out a scoff, a noise that once more reminded him more of the old Sansa than this new, reserved woman that he did not know.

“Father would be proud of you. He would know that his words were taken to heart, that there will always be a Stark in Winterfell,” Sansa said, confidence ringing in her voice.

“I am not a Stark.”

Sansa didn't look at him, yet he saw one of her eyebrows rise ever so slightly.

“You are more wolf than dragon,” she replied simply.

Jon felt the smallest of smiles pulling at his lips, having never expected to hear such words from her of all people. Yet he still felt the burden of their tense union on his shoulders.

“And you deserved someone better to serve as your husband,” he said, finally getting to the root of why he could not approach her chambers.

Perhaps it was the truth that they once belonged to Catelyn Stark, who would no doubt agree that he did not deserve her daughter. Maybe it was the disappointment that he would see in his uncle’s eyes if Ned were there to see his shame. Or it was possible that Jon knew that this place, his title, was one that did not belong to him and never did. He knew that Robb declared him legitimate but they were still his lands and he should be Lord of Winterfell. But instead, he was forever frozen at sixteen, the statue of his young face visible from where they were sitting.

“Is that why you do not take your liberties as my husband?” Sansa asked, surprise clear on her face.

Jon turned away, fixing his eyes on the cold gaze of her mother.

“She would despise me for allowing my aunt to marry us,” he said.

Sansa reached over, slipping her hand into his and taking him by surprise. It was the first touch they’d shared since their brief kiss in the godswood upon their union.

“My mother is dead, Jon. They all are."

He swallowed against the lump that formed in his throat. Hearing it so bluntly from Sansa, of all people, made it all the more real. Robb would never spar with him in the yard again. Arya would never sneak into his chambers to be comforted after a nightmare. Bran would never climb the walls of Winterfell again and Rickon would never run from his room naked as his day of birth with his nurses hurrying after him. They were all dead or lost to them.

“We are the last ones left. You are all that I have,” Sansa said quietly.

He turned his head to see that tears were glistening in her eyes and slipping down her beautiful cheeks. She looked more open and vulnerable than he had seen her since they were children.

“Please, Jon. I cannot lose you as well," she said with a hitch in her voice, a trace of desperation in her eyes. "I have waited for you. I dreamed of our reunion and imagined it many different ways. I know that I may not be the wife that you wished to have but I know that you are the man that my father wanted for me. You are brave and gentle and strong and you are the only person I have left in this world.”

She was openly crying by the end of her plea and Jon suddenly realized that her polite coolness towards him was not an effort to keep her distance from him, but rather an attempt to keep him close, even if it meant pretending. He reached out, cupping a hand over her tear-stained cheek.

“You will not lose me, sweet girl," Jon reassured her.

Sansa closed her eyes and leaned her head into his touch.

“I could be good to you. I could be a good wife,” she whispered, trying to convince them both.

Jon hushed her, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.

“Might I visit your chambers tonight?” he questioned as he pulled away, the words slipping out before he knew it.

Her eyes popped open and when he saw the undisguised happiness in her gaze, he knew that it was the right thing to say.

“Yes, Jon,” Sansa whispered before throwing herself into his arms.

He held her close, letting the ghosts of their family be at rest in his mind as he vowed there and then to stop letting them affect his life now. Sansa was all that mattered and he would spend the rest of his days ensuring that she never felt alone again.


	8. Canon AU - Red Wedding AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon dies with Robb and Cat at the Red Wedding and his last thoughts are on his unrequited love for Sansa, and when Sansa hears about the whole ordeal she reflects on her own unrequited love for Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: SUICIDE

Robb was already dead, lying in a pool of his own blood. Lady Catelyn was laughing maniacally, strips of flesh torn off of her face by her own nails. Jon felt pain radiating through his body, burning like fire as he pushed the table off that the Greatjon had thrown on top of him. When his aunt’s body fell to the ground, he pushed himself up to his knees and swayed on the spot.

“Sansa,” he mumbled, darkness clouding his vision.

“Heh,” Lord Walder cackled at him as he pushed himself to his feet. “The Dragon King arises. Seems we killed some of your men, Your Grace. Oh, but I’ll make you an apology that will mend them all again.”

Jon staggered to the side, gripping at a table as he fought to stay alive. He had to get to her, he had to save her from the lions. It was for Sansa that he refused the betrothal from Lord Frey, and it was for her that he was dying. She did not return his love, of that he was certain. But Jon still had to hope, he still had to think that at the end of this war, there was a lovely maiden waiting on him. Now there was nothing but death that awaited him.

All he had to remember her by was the soft kiss that Sansa bestowed on his cheek before she departed Winterfell to marry the prince. She smelled of lemons and roses, her long hair brushing against his cheek as she pulled away and gave him a small smile. No, she did not love him but that did not change the way that he felt for her. Jon let his eyes flutter closed as he pictured her lovely face. Distantly, he heard the howling of direwolves and briefly thought of Ghost, then of Lady who had been taken so cruelly from this world.

“Sansa,” he whispered again.

Suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder and a rough voice whispered in his ear.

“The Lannisters send their regards.”

An explosion of pain centered in his chest and he yelled out her name as loud as he could before the life drained from him all at once.

*****

_That was such a sweet dream,_ Sansa thought drowsily. She could still see Jon running beside her, laughing brightly as they ran through the godswood with Lady and Ghost. But it was all a dream. He was dead, along with her brother and mother and everyone else. It was the day of Joffrey’s wedding and she was expected to be presentable. Brella insisted upon it, ushering her into the bath after she turned away from the clouds that looked like castles. Yes, they could make her beautiful. For in her mind, Jon would want it so.

It was hardly true. He didn’t care for her at all in their time at Winterfell. Regardless, Sansa was determined to give him a proper goodbye before leaving for King’s Landing but all that she could manage was a kiss on his cheek. With shame causing her to blush, she pulled away and gave him a smile which he returned, most likely to be polite to his younger cousin. Sansa did not know when she started to love him, but since her separation from him, she could not deny it.

As she heard of his battles and fights, she fancied that he was coming for her. Sansa could not help but imagine Jon storming into the Red Keep, slaying all of the Lannisters before taking her hand and pledging his love for her. But the songs did not make her happy anymore and her dreams were almost always nightmares, especially as she imagined the deaths of the family that she loved so much and the man she would never truly kiss.

Sansa refused to allow herself to cry. Jon would want her to be pretty. He would want her to be brave. They dressed her in a beautiful dress and fixed her hair in a southron style that Jon would likely despise. She had to fix it, braid it into a style more like her lady mother used to wear. Her heart ached as she dabbed rose oil onto her neck and wrists. When her ladies protested her walking to the balcony so that her appearance would not be ruined, Sansa brushed them off. Neither of them noticed the dagger hidden in her skirts.

After hearing of the massacre at the Twins, she heard whispers about her brother and mother, of the Targaryen boy who claimed himself as King of Westeros. Sansa knew what they did to Jon’s body. Tyrion tried to keep it from her but it was hard not to hear of how they mutilated his body and placed Ghost’s head atop it with the crown fashioned for him. She felt sick to her stomach thinking of it so she chose to remember how he looked that last day in Winterfell. Snow was falling on them and made his dark hair and eyes look even more handsome. Sansa looked out over the courtyard of the Red Keep, feeling hatred bubbling in her chest for all of the people within.

 _May the Mother of Dragons burn you all,_ she thought viciously, hoping that the last remaining Targaryen would take revenge for her nephew’s death. Sansa would not be around to see it. As she combed her hair out of the style and let it fall around her shoulders in soft waves, she closed her eyes to envision her beloved Jon. He was so handsome and so young. Sansa wondered briefly if her body would be sent to Winterfell’s crypts to be laid to rest among the other Starks. It did not matter much to her now. She would only feel relief when her pain ended.

Sansa barely felt it when the blade dug into her wrists and her beautiful gown turned to red. She slumped to her knees, tilting her head back as she looked at the sky and the cloudy castles.

“Jon, my Jon,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering closed.

He was there before her, smiling as he had in her dreams with his hand held out to her welcomingly. _I have been brave, my love,_ Sansa thought before the darkness clouded her mind. There were shouts around her when she was found, blood soaked into her gown and still spilling from the deep wounds in her wrists. Her face at peace. Sansa Stark mourned no longer.


	9. Canon AU - Jon has nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comforting Jon when he has night terrors about The Wall/Ygritte dying/getting stabbed and all the other gruesome stuff that happened to him.

When she awoke, Sansa didn't know what disturbed her sleep until she heard the sound of scratching on her door. Sansa’s first thought went to Lady. She sat up and reached for the end of her bed before she reminded herself that her direwolf was dead, and had been for a long time. She carefully slid out from beneath her furs, wondering if one of the hunting dogs had slipped into the castle. Donning a dressing gown, Sansa tied it off loosely before hurrying to the door. As soon she opened it, she was met with pair of red eyes staring up at her.

“Ghost?” she whispered, her brow furrowing.

The direwolf didn’t make a noise, as always. He just nudged his head against her hip and turned to bound down the corridor. Sansa stared after him with sleepy confusion, not knowing what he wanted. When he looked back at her, an impatient look in his eyes, she stepped into the hall.

“Do you want me to follow you?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

He huffed and hurried back over to her, walking around her and knocking his body against the back of her legs to push her forward.

“All right, I’m coming,” Sansa said, walking down the corridor with him as the cold stone floor chilled her bare feet.

She wondered if something was wrong. There was no other explanation for Ghost’s behavior. When they reached Jon’s door, he stopped short and sat back on his haunches, looking up at her expectantly. Sansa glanced between him and the door with surprise.

“You want me to go to Jon?”

He tilted his head to the side, simply giving her a silent stare. Sansa sighed, wondering how it was possible to explain to a direwolf that it was improper to enter her cousin’s chambers uninvited. When Ghost nudged his head against her thighs and urged her forward, it was her turn to huff.

“Fine,” she said, frowning at him before hesitantly pushing the door open.

It was unlatched, much to her surprise. Sansa peered into the dimly lit chamber, hearing only the crackle of the fire in the hearth. Her eyes flitted to the bed and she realized why Ghost had been so insistent on her coming. She glanced down at the direwolf before stepping further into the room, crossing it as quietly as she could. Sansa hesitated at the end of the bed, watching as Jon silently tossed amongst the furs that covered him. There was a grimace on his face and his eyes were squeezed shut rather tightly, making the scars around them stand out even more.

Ghost approached her silently, pressing his cool nose to her hand. If he weren't silent, she had the sense that he might have whined at her then. Walking slowly around the bed, she sat carefully atop the furs and reached out, touching Jon’s shoulder with the hope that her touch would pull out of the horrors that lived in his mind. Sansa had her fair share of nightmares and knew how disorienting it was to wake from them. When Jon jerked awake and sat up, his breaths coming out quickly, she leaned away from him to prevent a collision of heads. His hands were clenched in the furs, his eyes staring straight ahead at whatever ghosts lingered in his mind.

“Jon?” Sansa murmured, gently taking hold of his arm.

She flushed when she realized that his torso was bare. Her eyes dipped low, horror filling her when she saw the scars that covered his chest and stomach. Sansa was aware of the betrayal of his brothers, having been told by Sam and Jon’s other, more loyal brothers who had accompanied him to Winterfell to help rebuild the castle. But to see the evidence of the terrible mutiny that had been enacted upon the former Lord Commander made Sansa’s chest clench with anger and sadness. When her eyes lifted, she saw him staring back at her.

“Sansa?” Jon breathed out, as if he could not quite account for her presence.

Excuses sprung to her lips but none of them seemed right. Instead, she just drew him into her and pressed his head against her chest as she stroked his hair. It was easy, soothing him this way. He trembled in her embrace as his strong arms wrapped around her. Jon let out a long sigh, pulling him into her so that she was flush against him, her legs across his lap.

“Sansa.”

This time, he choked out her name and she realized that his tears were soaking into her dressing gown.

“Shh, it’s all right now,” she said softly, doing her best to comfort him. “You’re not there, Jon. The Wall has fallen and the Others have been defeated. Those who harmed you are long gone and you’re home now.”

Sansa knew that there were many things that his nightmares could hold, and there was no way of telling which haunted him this night. The only thing that she knew could comfort him was the reassurance that he was back within the walls of Winterfell, no matter how damaged they were. They were Starks, even Jon in spite of his dragon blood. And Starks would always be stronger within Winterfell, especially when they were together.

“Don’t leave me.”

The words were so quiet that Sansa almost thought that she could have imagined them. But Jon only held her tighter and she knew that he did say them.

“I won’t,” she murmured, her eyes falling closed.

She held the North as its queen. As soon as he arrived at Winterfell, Jon took up his place at her side, helping her in the duties that were hers alone. More than once, a letter from the dragon queen came to the maester’s tower, encouraging them both to marry. Only a moon had passed since Jon threw aside all pretense and asked if she would be his wife. Sansa, who had been wondering at the same solution, agreed almost immediately. Their wedding was postponed as they awaited his aunt’s arrival in Winterfell, along with King Aegon, his brother. Sansa was torn from her thoughts as he pulled away, his arms loosening their hold around her. Jon’s eyes lifted to stare into hers, their depths filled with sadness that her heart ached for him.

“How did you know?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.

As if to answer his question, Ghost leaped onto the bed and curled up at the end, looking rather satisfied. Sansa reached out to pet him, a small smile on her face.

“He brought me,” she answered.

Ghost let out a content sigh, his eyes sliding closed. Jon reached out as well, scratching at his ears.

“Thank you, Ghost,” he murmured.

Sansa felt her heart leap at his words. When she asked him if her presence was a bother to him, he turned to look at her once more.

“Your presence could never be a bother to me, Sansa,” he assured her.

She relaxed, smiling at him as she took his hand in hers. Jon reached up, brushing her hair from her face before leaning in to press a light kiss to her lips. She froze for a few moments, her hands clenching in her dressing gown. Jon pulled away quickly, looking at her with a guilty expression.

“I apologize, my lady. That was presumptuous of me,” he said, shame in his voice.

“No,” Sansa said, lifting her hand to his cheek before he could pull away from her even more. “I wish that you would do it again.”

The words fell from her mouth as if uncontrolled by her mind. But she knew them to be true. Nothing would please her more than to feel his lips pressed against hers once more. especially since she thought that her ability to enjoy such things had long since faded. Jon’s looked at her with surprise but leaned in nonetheless, kissing her gently once more. This time, Sansa leaned in and deepened the kiss, her hands sliding into his soft hair. When he pulled away, Jon gave her a soft smile and pulled her down onto the bed. Sansa didn’t hesitate to curl against him, her back to his chest as his arms wrapped around her. All thoughts of impropriety flew out of her mind as she felt his warm breath against her cheek and his warmth surrounded her.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Sansa didn’t know to reply, so she simply lifted his hand to her lips and press a soft kiss to his scarred knuckles. They fell asleep that way and both slept peacefully, waking up only when the sun shone brightly through the open curtains. As they gazed at each other sleepily, Sansa and Jon agreed without speaking a word that they would never have to sleep alone again.


	10. Canon AU - Jon catches Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon x sansa, king & queen in the north - don't do the frick frack often, jon walks in on sansa pleasuring herself and makes up for lost time.

Her marriage was not an unhappy one. Sansa had no complaint with her Jon. He was a good leader and a gentle partner. But where they were a wonderful king and queen, partners in ruling the wild North, they were not as good at being husband and wife. She wondered if they could ever truly be married as her mother and father were, or if their time as brother and sister would forever decide the nature of their relationship. She felt shame each time he moved above her, doing his duty as an honorable man, and heat settled low in her belly. Sansa was sure that she looked pained as she fought the desire that flamed within her at the feel of his warm body pressed to hers. All she wanted him to do was touch her, put his hands upon her hips, her breasts, her back.

“Are you all right, my lady?” her maid asked, concerned at the flush on her face and chest.

Sansa glanced over at her from where she was sitting before the fire in her chamber, warmth rushing through her that wasn’t all from the wine she was drinking. Jon was in the training yard now, and it was all that she could do not to imagine him without his tunic as he sparred with the other men, his muscles twisting and rolling beneath his sun-kissed skin, for spring had come and his blood, part wolf and part dragon, ran near as hot as the springs that flooded Winterfell's walls.

“I am feeling rather ill,” Sansa lied, almost wincing at the husky sound of her voice.

The maid nodded, looking like she understood.

“I did notice that you were rather feverish this morning, my lady, if you don’t mind me saying.”

Sansa turned away so that she could not see the shame on her face. Her dreams had been filled with Jon, tangling in the hot springs with her as they coupled passionately. It was no surprise that she woke up heated and flushed.

“Thank you," she said dismissively, staring into the depths of the fire as if it would burn away her desire.

But the sight of the flames only made her imagine heat of Jon’s hands as they stroked through her hair and cupped her cheeks. He sometimes placed chaste kisses on her lips and all that Sansa could think of how those lips would feel against her woman's place. When she heard the maid leave, she sighed and leaned back in the chair, closing her eyes as she clenched her fingers on the arms of the chair. Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she tried to think of anything else. Yet all that she could imagine was Jon sat before her, his eyes filled with desire as he ran his hands over her heated skin. Sansa let out a frustrated noise, moving her hands to her dressing gown. Before she knew it, she was pulling the thin material up her thighs.

She made quick work of her smallclothes, embarrassed at how damp they were as she tossed them onto the floor. Her legs spread and she could not waste time feeling shame. In that moment, her blood burned as hot as her lord husband's. Sansa tilted her head back with a sigh as she parted her folds and ran a finger along the wetness there. As she circled the sensitive little pearl that she knew well enough from her own explorations, her eyes squeezed shut. It was no substitute for the way she imagined Jon’s fingers, his lips, his tongue might feel. But it was all that she could have and Sansa was determined for the sake of her own state of mind. If she could get it out of her system here and now, then she could go about her daily duties with ease.

As two of her slender fingers slid inside of her, she let out a cry and lifted her hips off of the chair, rubbing at her sweet spot with the other hand. Her breaths came quick and she knew that she was on the edge of something wonderful, though she could not quite get there. Sansa whimpered and bit down on her lip, curling her toes. Her heart thumped quickly in her chest, beating with every echo of her husband’s name in her mind. _Jon, Jon, Jon…_

“Jon,” she sighed aloud.

That was when she heard a sharp intake of breath from behind her. Sansa gasped and turned her head, her hands flying up to her chest as she looked at the intruder with wide eyes. Jon looked just as stunned as she felt, with a deep flush in his cheeks and his hands clenched into fists. There were several moments of silence before he spoke first, his voice rough and deep, sending warmth pulsing between her legs.

“Your maid told me that you were unwell.”

Sansa didn’t reply, unable to find her voice as humiliation set in. Once he closed and latched the door, she wondered if he would tell her how ashamed of her he was. As he approached the chair, she trembled and turned her face away, wanting to disappear in the depths of the crypts rather than see the disgust that must be there. Any man must feel shame at finding his wife behaving in such a way.

“Sansa,” Jon murmured, putting a gentle hand on her chin to turn her face towards him.

He was standing over her, bending down as his fingers gently stroked her cheek. She could not bring herself to look up at him.

“Please look at me,” he said in a low voice.

Sansa finally lifted her eyes and saw that his own were darker than usual, a question in their depths.

“You were thinking of me?” he whispered.

She didn’t answer right away, gasping as his mouth moved to her neck and he placed soft kisses against her skin. Sansa’s hands came up to his shoulders as she tilted her head back, her eyes fluttering closed.

“Yes,” she hissed out as he nibbled at her pulse point.

Jon groaned and it sent a rush of heat through her body. She let out a whimper when his hand slid up her thigh.

“Gods, Sansa,” he mumbled upon feeling her wetness.

She rocked against his hand as his fingers parted her folds, feeling every bit as amazing as she knew they would. Jon stroked her softly, the rough surface of his fingers sending tremors through her body as she clutched at him desperately.

“Jon,” she whimpered, her head falling back against the chair as he circled her sweet spot slowly.

“Tell me what you were thinking,” he said in the same rough voice as before.

Sansa’s eyes opened with shock and she wondered if he really wanted to hear such things.

“Your… your fingers. Just like… _gods_ … just like that.”

He kissed along her jaw, pressing one finger into her slowly. Sansa bucked her hips, crying out at the feeling.

“Is that it?” Jon asked patiently.

She shook her head quickly.

“You would think me wanton, Jon. It is horrid to wish for such things,” she whispered, her chest rising and falling quickly.

“Tell me," he repeated, another finger joining the first.

She gasped out his name before gathering the words in her mind.

“Your mouth,” Sansa murmured, color flooding her cheeks at the admission.

Jon’s head lifted and she saw surprise mingling with naked lust in his eyes.

“On…on me…on my…”

“On your cunt?” he growled in her ear, nipping at her earlobe.

“Oh gods,” she moaned at the filthy words coming from his mouth.

Jon pulled his hand away from her and she whimpered at the loss.

“Is that what you want, Sansa? Your husband on his knees before you with his mouth on your sweet cunt?” he breathed, pulling her thighs apart even as he spoke.

“Jon please,” she pleaded.

“Say it, Sansa.”

She couldn’t bear the desperation that filled her, the need for more. Sansa wasn’t sure if she could speak such words but, as she curled her fingers into his hair, they fell from her mouth without her permission.

“I want your mouth on my… on my cunt. I want your tongue and your lips, _please_ Jon. I want you to kiss me there.” she begged, unable to bear it for a moment longer.

With a soft growl, he fell to his knees and pushed her dressing gown up to her hips. Sansa would have flushed at being so bared to him if his lips were not trailing up her thigh. He pulled her to the edge of the chair, fitting her legs over his shoulders. When his warm breath washed over her, Sansa thought she might burst with the feeling in her chest. At the first touch of his lips to her, a rather chaste kiss, she threw her head back and let out a high whine. Jon parted her folds and tentatively licked her, tasting her slowly as he dragged the flat of his tongue up the length of her womanhood.

“Oh, oh gods, Jon, _gods_!” she chanted, his grip on her hips the only thing keeping her on the chair.

He hummed against her, making her gasp and tremble.

“Seven hells, Sansa. You taste better than I imagined,” he mumbled against her, flicking his tongue over her clit.

“You… you imagined… _oh Jon_ … you thought of this?” she said, panting as he pursed his lips around the sensitive bud.

His answering moan was all that she needed to hear. Sansa sobbed out her pleasure as he slid his fingers in her and curled them, finding a spot within her that sent bright sparks of light through her vision. She knew that she was being louder than was appropriate but as his tongue teased her clit, Sansa did not care. His name was a shout on her lips as she peaked, waves of pleasure rolling over her as his kisses grew more and more chaste and he eventually pulled away, wiping the wetness around his mouth and chin away with his sleeve. Sansa gripped at the arms of the chair as her body twitched in the aftershocks.

“Gods, you are beautiful,” Jon said, rubbing his hands along her thighs. “If only I could taste you forever, I would never want for anything more.”

Sansa let out a soft laugh, her entire body relaxed in the wake of her pleasure.

“I don’t know that I could bear it," she sighed, reaching down to run her fingers through his hair.

He looked up at her with a glint in his eyes and Sansa somehow knew that it was not over. When he stood and pulled her up with gentle hands, she let out an embarrassed noise when she slumped in his arms, her legs weak. Jon chuckled against her temple, untying her dressing gown. When her cheeks flushed, it was not out of shame, but rather even more desire at the heated look in his gaze. He let the dark blue fabric pool at their feet before untying the ribbons of her thin shift, pulling it over her head. Once Sansa was bared to his eyes, he could not keep his hands off of her.

“This is hardly fair,” she breathed, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as his hands ran up her back.

Jon didn’t reply, moving his hand to her breast. His thumb ran over the soft skin of the underside before flicking over her nipple lightly. Sansa let out a soft moan, digging her fingers into his arms as he teased her nipples, rolling them between his fingers and thumbs as she shook against him.

“Jon, please,” she said.

He nuzzled at her hair, inhaling the sweet scent of her soap.

“Shall I tell you what I’ve imagined?” he asked.

“Yes,” Sansa sighed, bunching his tunic in her hands before she yanked it over his head.

Jon leaned down once she tossed it away, mouthing at the skin behind her ear before he whispered his thoughts to her.

“I want to fuck you in this chair," he said in a low voice.

“Oh,” Sansa whispered, almost collapsing in his arms again.

Jon unlaced his breeches quickly, shoving them down his legs along with his smallclothes. When he turned, Sansa watched with wide eyes as he sat back on the chair, tugging at her.

“Come here, sweet girl,” Jon said.

She let him pull her onto his lap, her legs straddling his thighs.

“Jon… I don’t…” Sansa looked up at him with panic in her eyes, begging for him to tell her what to do.

“Whatever you want, Sansa," he said, cradling her cheeks in his hands.

She reached down, tentatively wrapping her hand around his arousal. At his deep groan, she looked up at him with alarm, wondering if she hurt him. His head was leaned back, his mouth parted slightly as his chest heaved. Sansa stroked up the length of him experimentally, letting out a giggle when he choked out her name. Jon’s eyes opened and narrowed when he saw the amusement on her face.

“You think something amusing, my queen?” he asked, swatting her behind lightly.

Sansa gasped at the sting, looking at him with wide eyes. When she saw the hesitation in his eyes, she knew that he was checking if that was okay. She leaned down, applying her teeth to his shoulder gently.

“I do, my king,” she whispered in his ear.

Jon chuckled before dragging her hips closer. Her breath hitched when his arousal brushed against her still sensitive flesh.

“Jon, please,” she whimpered.

“Tell me, Sansa," he murmured in her ear.

She pulled away from him, rocking her hips against his.

“I believe you said something about fucking me in this chair,” she said, pleased at the huskiness of her voice this time.

Jon’s fingers curled into the skin at her hips as his eyes flashed with desire and he lifted her up just enough to guide her. Sansa let out a sigh as she sank down on him slowly, her fingers sliding into his hair as he stretched and filled her.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his voice strained as they stilled.

Sansa nodded, unable to find the words to speak. Jon’s hands guided her, rolling her hips against his as they both moaned at the feeling. She sped up of her own accord, yanking on his hair and earning groans in return. When his mouth pressed against hers, she opened her lips to him willingly. The kiss was hot and desperate, passion fueling their actions as his arms wrapped around her back and pulled her closer.

“Jon, I can’t… it’s too much,” she gasped against his mouth.

He began snapping his hips up, making her cry out as he brushed the spot within her once more. She clenched around him, drawing out a hoarse groan of her name. Jon’s lips went to her shoulder, leaving her skin tingling as he trailed hot kisses to her collarbone and sucked on the skin at her throat. They moved together, their heated bodies slick with sweat as their chests heaved and their pleasured noises mingled in the air.

“Please, please Jon,” Sansa pleaded, begging for more, for the glorious finish that she awaited them.

“Gods, Sansa. So good, so sweet,” he rambled, clutching her closer. “My sweet girl, beautiful wife. You are so amazing, so lovely and gentle.”

Sansa dug her fingers into his shoulder, knowing that she was likely leaving red marks from her nails. Jon chuckled against her hair and nipped at her ear with his teeth.

“My wolf queen,” he growled.

She tossed her head back with a cry, her second peak making her tremble and writhe atop him. Jon called out her name hoarsely as he buried himself deep within her and spilled within her. Sansa slumped against his chest as they came down from their peaks and Jon’s fingers stroked up and down her back. She pressed her head over his heart, pleased to feel that it beat as quickly as her own. Hiding a smile against his skin, she pressed a kiss to his chest.

“That was wicked of us,” Sansa informed him, too sated to feel guilty for it.

His deep chuckled vibrated beneath her as he kissed her head gently.

“I would like to do it again,” Jon admitted.

Sansa’s eyes widened as she pulled away to look at him.

“In the chair?” she asked.

He grinned at her, a sparkle in his eyes.

“In the chair, on the rug, in the bed, against the wall… in the stables, the godswood, atop the roof.”

Sansa let out a giggle and swatted at his arm, making him laugh as well.

“You should be ashamed, Your Grace. Men don’t speak like that in front of ladies,” she admonished him half-heartedly.

“So I can’t tell you that I want to fuck you in every room of this place?” he asked in a low voice.

A shiver of desire ran down her spine despite how sated she was now. Sansa leaned in, pressing a deep kiss to his lips that he responded to quite eagerly. When she curled against his chest once more, she sighed lightly.

“I didn’t know it could be like that. That it could _feel_ like that,” she said quietly.

Jon’s movements stilled for a moment.

“I didn’t know you wanted that, or else we would have been doing it long ago."

Sansa lifted her head once more, running her hands over his chest and stomach, the twitch of his muscles beneath her touch making her smile. She glanced up at his eyes, knowing that she must look wanton.

“Perhaps we could make up for lost time,” she suggested.

Jon grinned at her, a wicked glint in his eyes.

“We _should,”_ he said, pulling her in for another kiss as she laughed.


	11. Canon AU - Marriage Offers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's the new Lord of Winterfell and it's therefore his responsibility to arrange a marriage for Sansa, but he finds himself strangely and inexplicably reluctant to do so. Turns out it's because he wants her for himself.

Jon had an entire list of reasons why he hadn’t given a second thought to the letters sitting within a drawer in his solar. They had just returned to Winterfell one year ago. Sansa wasn’t ready to be sent off to another castle. She needed time to settle. She likely didn’t wish to have another husband so soon after her second one died in the war. She was instrumental in the rebuilding of Winterfell. She belonged there. The people needed her. There should always be a Stark in Winterfell, and he was a Targaryen. Her father would have wanted it. Her mother would have wanted it. Robb would have wanted it. He would have trusted Jon to do what was right for her. He repeated the excuses in his mind even as his aunt sent him letters pushing him to arrange a marriage for his cousin. Jon knew very well that one of these days, the queen would ride to Winterfell on the back of one of her dragons and demand to know why her messages went unanswered. For now, he could and would ignore her, despite how dangerous it was.

Yet Jon underestimated Daenerys Targaryen's methods, and that was how he found himself faced with a very displeased Sansa with his heart pounding in his chest and a thousand excuses flitting through his mind, none any better than the last. His cousin had grown even more beautiful over the years, her silky hair waving to perfection down to her waist. Her bright blue eyes and pale skin pleasing to the eye as well as her dark pink lips and the dusting of freckles across her nose. She was in a woolen dress suitable for the North, dark grey in color with blue winter roses embroidered around the collar. It was a rather plain dress but on her, it looked better than the finest silks and lace in all the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities. He was torn away from his thoughts by her pointed question.

“Have you been receiving proposals of marriage on my behalf?” Sansa asked, holding up a letter in which his aunt described the difficulty she’s had getting him to settle on a husband for her.

In that moment, Jon knew that he would nearly fight the Others again if it meant not facing Sansa and her accusing stare. He cleared his throat, trying to find the best way to approach this.

“As the Lord of Winterfell, it is my duty to—”

She threw the crumpled letter at him, stunning him into silence as it bounced off of his chest.

“And what a duty you have done, my lord. Why is it that I had to hear this from the Dragon Queen and not you?” Sansa demanded, her eyes flashing furiously.

He could understand the hurt that lingered in her eyes. After he marched to the Vale to bring her back to Winterfell, she’d had a trust in him that he did not understand. Her hair was dark and wrong but as the auburn color showed through, Sansa began telling him of her time in the south. Jon knew that he was the only one to truly know of her experiences, of the horrors she faced in the court of the Red Keep as well as in the Vale.

“I was going to tell you,” Jon said, holding his hands out in a placating manner.

Sansa stepped away from him.

“Why didn’t you? And why haven’t you chosen for me? You’ve had your time to think. If you wish me to marry, just tell me. I am a Stark and I do my duty as the others,” she said, though he could see the words pained her.

Sansa wished to leave even less than he thought, and understandably so. Her time away from Winterfell hadn’t been kind to her.

“Winterfell needs you. You are happier here than I ever saw you on the road from the Vale. The people love you and they will want you to stay," he listed, trying to come up with all of the reasons that he thought of before.

She squinted at him, not believing any of them to be the real reason for a second.

“You know all of this for certain? You know that the people want me here? You know that I am happier here than anywhere else?” she asked, stepping towards him this time.

Jon frowned, the questions making his mind whirl with desperation to find the right answer.

“Well, no, I suppose that—”

“What is the real reason, Jon?” Sansa interrupted him, her tone demanded the truth.

He stepped away from her as she advanced on him.

“All of those reasons are quite real,” Jon said, wishing for the cold of the Wall right now if it would get him out of this conversation.

“And yet none of them are yours. Tell me.” she commanded, leaving no more room for argument.

“You can’t leave Winterfell,” he finally said, stunned at his words as soon as they left his mouth.

Sansa’s gaze grew softer as she looked up at him.

“Why not, Jon?” she murmured, stepping closer to him and taking his hand in hers gently.

He took a deep breath, closing his eyes to gather his thoughts.

“Because… because I do not want you to leave. I don’t want you to have another husband. I don’t want another man touching you and kissing you and getting babes on you. I want to do all of that. I want to call you mine and love you as you should be loved. I want to give you a family and I want you to be my lady., Jon said, breathless with his confession as he looked down at her.

Sansa no longer looked angry at all. A soft smile formed on her face and she reached up, pressing her hand over his cheek.

“You ridiculous man," she said softly, giving him a shake of her head. "Why did you tell me none of this before?”

Jon didn’t know how to answer her, so he settled for a simple shrug. Sansa laughed, pushing up on her toes to press a light kiss to his lips.

“I want all of that too," she said, leaning away ever so slightly. "But you are going to have to ask me in a nicer manner, perhaps with lemon cakes and sweet summerwine. The castle's cook can teach you how to make—”

He cut her off with his lips as his hands slid into her hair.

“So does that mean you’ll marry me?” Jon asked, looking down into her bright blue eyes.

Sansa simply rolled her eyes and pulled him down for yet another kiss.

*****

Daenerys smirked as she held the parchment in her hands. She knew that sending the letter to Lady Sansa would get the desired results. After all the many letters she wrote to her nephew, he still did not understand that she was not trying to get him to arrange a marriage between anyone but Sansa and himself.

“Start packing for a trip," she instructed her maids lightly. "It seems we’ll be celebrating a wedding soon."


	12. Canon AU - Sansa is sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa getting ill and Jon being worried sick about her.

Jon knew that something was wrong as he entered the room. He could not see Sansa through the crowd of women around her but when the squirming bundle was placed in his arms, he was sufficiently distracted. He looked down at the face of his child with shock, smiling as her blue-grey eyes stared up at him. Her face was red with the effort of screaming as she was removed from the warmth of her mother’s womb and there was a tuft of auburn hair on her head to match.

“You’re going to be beautiful, just like your mother,” Jon informed their daughter softly, glancing up at Sansa’s bed.

When he saw the ladies muttering to themselves and glancing over at him, he couldn't help but frown as that feeling of wrongness struck him once more.

“What is it?”

They all averted their eeys, as though they would rather not answer his question. When the midwife finally stepped towards him, a solemn look on her face, Jon’s heart sank in his chest.

“We believe that she has the childbed fever, Your Grace.”

Jon held their daughter closer to his chest as the women parted to let him see Sansa. She’d been cleaned up and her hair was brushed out but her skin was as pale as the winter snows. Even the color was drained out of her normally pink lips and her closed eyes looked sunken in her face. The furs and blankets thrown over her made her look small.

“What will be done?” he asked hoarsely, knowing that childbed fever was a horrible thing.

“We will do what we can, Your Grace. But chances are—”

Jon cut her off, not wanting to hear what the chances were.

“Do what you must, keep my wife alive,” he said, his voice colder than normal.

She could not die. She would not die. If he had the power, he would forbid it. But her life was in the hands of the gods and he could see the sadness in the eyes of every woman in the room. They did not expect for Sansa to survive this, as so many women did not. As his own mother did not. Their daughter began crying in his arms as if she could sense the poisonous thoughts of everyone in the room. A wet nurse was quickly summoned and the newborn babe was taken from his arms to be fed. Jon took up a place at Sansa’s side, refusing anyone who offered to keep him informed on her condition. He would rather be there to see it himself.

*****

As she worsened, Sam came in and out to see to her condition. His grave look never made Jon feel better and soon, he stopped looking at his friend at all when he came around to check on Sansa. When Arya came in, there was an accusing look on his face. Jon was not used to being the source of her anger so when she turned her furious expression on him, he was rather taken aback.

“She only had this stupid baby because of you,” she snapped.

He frowned at her, his brow furrowing.

“What do you mean?”

Arya huffed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Sansa always wanted a marriage like mother's and father’s. Yours is about as far away from that as it can get. You hardly even look at her, Jon. She’s not stupid, she knows you never wanted to marry her. Sansa thought if she gave you a babe, it might make you love her. And now she’s going to die because you couldn’t stop being ridiculous."

Jon stared at his wife with wide eyes, wishing now more than ever that she would awaken.

“I didn’t know,” he whispered, guilt resting heavily on his heart.

Arya didn’t say another word, but the look of accusation on her face was imprinted in his mind.

“I do love her,” Jon said after several minutes of watching the shallow rise and fall of Sansa’s chest.

When his younger cousin’s eyes met his, they were filled with sorrow.

“Did you ever let her know that?”

Jon didn’t have to answer. They both knew the truth. And now Sansa could die from delivering his child with the impression that he did not care for her. It was enough to drive him to his knees in the godswood.

“Please,” he said quietly, looking up at the Heart Tree. “You cannot take her from me. I love her. The North loves her. Our daughter needs her mother.”

The only answer was the whispering wind around him. When Jon reentered the castle, nothing had changed. He sent the ladies away from her chambers once more, sitting by the bed. He took her pale hand up in his, pressing a gentle kiss to it.

“I am sorry. I should have been warmer towards you. I should not have treated you so indifferently. You were all that a king could ask for in a queen, gentle and kind and loving. I took you for granted and I do wish that I could take it all back. You deserve a loving husband. I would be such a man for you if you would only wake up. I promise you, Sansa. I will love you with all of my heart and soul. Please, just open your eyes.”

There was no response and, for the first time in years, he felt like crying as he bent his head over the bed. Jon did not realize that he fell asleep until he woke to a gentle touch stroking his hair. He lifted his head to see Sansa looking down at him with tired, but open eyes.

“You’ve awoken,” he gasped, taking her hand in his.

She smiled softly, squeezing his fingers lightly.

“I would be a fool not to, with so much to live for,” Sansa said in a hoarse voice.

Jon leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers lightly. He could hardly wait, even though she was still weakened by the illness.

“I love you,” he said, pulling away to look in her eyes.

Sansa lifted her hand to stroke his cheek, her touch feather-light against his skin.

“I know. I heard you in my sleep,” she whispered. “I love you too, dear sweet Jon.”

He felt overwhelmed with joy at hearing her speak once more.

“Now, where is our daughter? I wish to see her.”

Jon grinned at her, only separating from her long enough to call a maid so that she could have the princess brought from the nursery.

“I waited until you woke to name her. I thought you want to do it together," Jon said, helping her to sit up, propped against a few pillows.

The babe was placed in Sansa’s arms once the wet nurse brought her through the door and Jon could swear he had never seen her smile so brilliantly as when she set eyes upon their firstborn.

“Lyra,” she breathed, looking into her eyes that had darkened into a grey much like his own.

Jon smiled, stroking a finger down their daughter’s cheek.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, pressing a kiss to Sansa’s temple.

She grinned over at him, looking radiant despite her weakened state.

“She’s beautiful, Jon. Thank you,” Sansa breathed.

“No, it is you who should be thanked. I shall never stop thanking you for giving me the two most wonderful things in my life,” Jon said, stroking her hair.

“Two?” she asked, although she already knew the answer.

He nodded, looking into her eyes.

“My daughter and my wife.”

Sansa smiled sweetly, pulling him in for a soft kiss.


	13. Modern AU - High School AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Teenage Jon and Sansa are neighbors. She's the golden girl with a lingering sadness to her while he just moved into town and is pretty much a normal guy. They bond because their rooms are facing each other.

It all happened because of Ghost. Jon was hauling boxes up to the door for his mother when he heard a yelp. When he turned, his dog was no longer at his side.

“Ghost!”

He set the box down quickly, running towards the next yard only to see his dog nearly on top of a laughing young woman as she tried to shield herself from his eager tongue. Jon let out a groan, grabbing his collar to yank him away before he licked her entire face clean.

“I’m so sorry,” he said apologetically, turning towards her once he had Ghost sitting and behaving once more.

The young woman turned out to be a girl his age. Jon’s eyes widened as she looked up at him with striking blue eyes.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said in a soft, pleasant voice.

As she reached up and took the hand that Jon didn’t realize he was holding out, he noted that her skin was soft. Once she stood beside him, the sweet smell of her soap washed over him as her fiery locks ruffled in the breeze. When she glanced over at his house, realization seemed to dawn in her eyes.

“You must be the guy my brother’s said so much about. He really can’t stop talking about you. I’m wondering if it’s true love of the soccer kind," she said, looking back at him.

“I’m sorry?” Jon said, feeling confused.

She laughed again, but this time he felt like there was a sort of falseness to the pealing noise.

“Robb Stark is my brother and he’s practically wetting himself at the idea of having you on his team this year. Jon, right?”

Jon realized who she was talking about nodded, relieved that he was finally on the same page as her.

“I’m Sansa, by the way,” she said.

He thought that he might reach out to shake her hand but when he looked down, Jon realized with flushing cheeks that her hand was still in his because he hadn’t let go.

“I’m sorry," Jon said, releasing it with wide eyes.

Sansa looked up at him with a small smile on her face that did not reach her eyes.

“You apologize a lot.”

He knew that she was right when another apology was on the tip of his tongue. She simply smiled wider, showing that she was teasing him.

“I know that you and Robb have a training camp thing tomorrow. Do you need a ride? He’s taking me to the school too,” Sansa offered, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ear.

“That’d be great,” Jon nodded, probably far too eagerly, agreeing despite the fact that he had his own car.

She nodded, stepping away from him. He watched as she scratched Ghost’s head, much to his dog’s delight, and waved at him before walking into her house. Jon stared after her for several moments before turning back to his house.

“To me, Ghost,” he called over his shoulder.

*****

The next day when he walked out of the house with his athletic bag slung over his shoulder, Jon felt unsure of whether he should to actually go over the Stark house. When he saw Robb tossing his own duffle bag into the back of a Jeep Wrangler, he decided to walk over to him.

“Hey!” the other boy said, grinning at him.

Jon hadn’t realized how much Robb and Sansa looked alike until now. But whereas the boy’s eyes had an ever-present shine in them, hers had a lingering sadness that he didn’t understand.

“Sansa told me that you were coming. I’m not sure that you had to have your dog attack her to meet her, though it will be most memorable way a guy ever introduced himself to my sister,” Robb said, smirking at him.

Jon flushed at his words as Robb took his bag from him.

“Stop teasing him or I’ll tell him how you ran into a pole and busted your lip when Arianne Martell smiled at you last year,” a voice said behind them.

Robb scowled as Sansa walked to the car with a slight smile. Jon watched as she pulled her hair up to show off the expanse of smooth skin on her back that the dress revealed.

“At least there was no slobber involved in your story,” he said to Robb.

“Actually, I think there was quite a bit of drool,” Sansa said, smirking over her shoulder at them as she hauled herself into the Jeep.

Robb turned about as red as his hair as he grumbled about annoying sisters before nodding at Jon to get in the car. He was surprised when he saw that Sansa was in the backseat and immediately felt bad for banishing her back there.

“She never sits in the front seat,” Robb said over the hood of the Jeep, noting his hesitation and nodding at him to climb in.

Jon didn’t say anything else, though he wondered why. The ride to the school was filled with banter between brother and sister as he watched and listened, having no siblings of his own. At least not any that he was close to. The more he looked at Robb’s younger sister, the sadder she looked, just like his mother in the first few years after his father left them. When they reached the school and climbed out of the car, it was like watching a transformation in front of him. Sansa’s eyes steeled and her back straightened. A cold expression was on her face as she smoothed out her dress.

“I’ll see you later,” she said in a quiet voice, heading for the main building of the school.

Robb looked after her, a conflicted expression on his face. Clearly whatever was going on, it wasn't just Jon's imagination.

“Is she all right?” he said, unsure of whether to even ask about her.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” the other boy answered, not at all convincing.

Jon frowned as he followed him towards the athletic building, pushing Sansa out of his mind as they walked into the locker room.

*****

His curiosity only grew when he realized that his room’s window faced the Stark house and, more specifically, Sansa’s window. Jon hadn’t opened his curtains since he moved in but now that he was looking out, he had a clear view of her moving about her room. When she turned around to pick something up off of the ground, her eyes lifted to see him standing there watching. Jon flushed, knowing that it looked incredibly creepy. Yet when a smile flitted over her face, he relaxed and hoped she might understand. Sansa walked to her window and pushed it open, inspiring him to do the same.

“Hi neighbor,” she said with a teasing lilt, her soft voice carrying across the space separating them.

“Hey Sansa,” he replied, bracing his elbows on the windowpane as he leaned forward.

Her smile grew but he could see behind it to the sadness within.

“How are you?” Jon asked, wondering if he would get an honest answer.

Her smile faltered but she regained it quickly, obviously used to putting on a front for people.

“I’m great,” Sansa said.

He frowned at her, making it clear that he doubted her words. But Jon allowed her the lie, answering her questions about soccer with ease. By the time he heard his mother calling him down for dinner, nearly an hour had passed. Sansa looked as surprised as him that they’d spoken for so long.

“Same time tomorrow?” he joked, expecting her to laugh.

“Sure," Sansa said, grinning at him.

It was the first smile that he saw reach her eyes and Jon stared at her in shock for several moments.

“Sounds good,” he finally managed to say, realizing that she was waiting for him to answer.

Sansa pulled away, closing the window before waving at him and walking from her room. Jon descended the steps with a furrowed brow, wondering how he managed to make her smile like that and how he could find a way to do it again.

*****

By the time school started, they were having these conversations each night, either before or after dinner. Jon knew almost every funny story about Sansa and her siblings while she’d heard of his many misadventures with his mother as they moved from place to place. They never got into anything deep, like Jon’s father or her sadness, but they conversed with ease, becoming quite good friends. Once school started, the evenings were the only time he ever really saw her. She was busy with her many clubs as he was with soccer and they both had classes to keep up with on top of it all. Sansa’s sadness was joined by a weariness that he wanted to understand. Two months after their window conversations started, Jon finally broke the taboo on personal talk.

“You’re sad,” he said one night while she was folding flyers for some event.

Sansa looked up at him with surprise, forcing that same smile onto her face.

“I’m fine,” she brushed off.

“You’re not.” Jon countered.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“Please, Jon,” Sansa said, looking up at him pleadingly.

“I just want you to know that you don’t have to pretend for me. I know that you do with everyone else.”

She stood up, the flyers falling from her lap.

“I don’t pretend,” she insisted, bracing her hands on the window sill.

He gave her a skeptical look that only made her angrier.

“You don’t know anything, Jon.” Sansa snapped.

“I know some things. I know that you’re more sad than happy and that you think you’ve perfected a fake smile. I know that putting on this façade exhausts you. And I know that I’m here for you, if you need to talk."

Sansa gave him a look torn between desperation and anger. When her window slammed shut and the curtains drew closed, he knew that he should have expected her to push him away. For the rest of the week, her window remained stubbornly closed, though he could see her moving around behind the curtains. Jon didn’t push it, letting her have her space, though his nights felt especially dull without their conversations. That weekend, after they won yet another one of their games, Robb, Jon, and their friends all joined up at the local diner, celebrating the win. When Sansa came in with a couple of her own friends, her eyes immediately fell on Jon. She turned her head away, wandering over to Loras Tyrell with his sister by her side. Robb nudged his side, redirecting his attention to the table's conversation once more. Several minutes passed before a familiar sweet scent wafted over him. Jon looked up to see Sansa standing there. She reached around him, congratulating her brother as she ruffled his curls.

“You staying for long?” Robb asked, looking up at her.

She shook her head, glancing at Jon. A small smile formed on her face and she reached over, taking a sip of his chocolate milkshake.

“I have a date tonight,” Sansa said, turning away from them with a flick of her hair.

Robb looked between them with a suspicious look on his face as Jon flushed and looked down at his lap.

“You’re the reason,” he said.

“What?” Jon frowned, looking up at him.

The other boy huffed, shaking his head.

“You’re why she’s smiling again. Really smiling,” Robb clarified.

Jon felt warmth in his chest and though he dropped his head, he couldn't quite hide the smile that pulled at his lips.

“What are you doing? My sister’s waiting for you.”

He let out a laugh as his friend shoved him out of the booth but didn't bother to deny it. Jon hurried home, taking the stairs two at a time as he called out to his mother that the game was great and he'd rehash it all to her later. When he threw his door open, he didn’t hesitate before running to the window to shove it open only for disappointment to settle in his chest when he saw that her window was closed. When a giggle rose up behind him, he turned with a gasp to see Sansa sitting on his bed with her legs folded beneath her and her cheeks filled with a light flush. Jon couldn't help the grin that formed on his face as he walked to sit with her.

“Your mom let me in when I explained that I owed you a conversation,” she said shyly, ducking her head as she pushed her hair behind her ear.

Jon reached out to touch her hand, wanting her to know that he wouldn't push her again.

“You owe me nothing, Sansa,” he assured her.

Sansa looked up at him with surprise and warmth mingling in her eyes, a small smile still on her face.

“And that’s why I want to tell you everything,” she said, reaching her hand up to cup his cheek.

As she told him about a car accident the year before in which her boyfriend died next to her in the driver’s seat, and how she'd been stuck next to him for quite some time, Jon held her hands in his, brushing her tears away when necessary.

“So you can see why I’m broken,” Sansa choked out when she finished.

“You’re not broken, Sansa. You just need a reason to smile again,” he said softly.

Even as he said the words, a bigger smile lit up her face.

“I have a reason,” Sansa answered, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

Suddenly the door shoved open and Ghost bounded inside, leaping on the bed with them. They both began laughing, shoving him away as he attempted to lick both of their faces.

“Thank you, Ghost,” Sansa said, rubbing his head when Jon got him settled.

“What are you thanking him for?” he wondered.

She grinned up at him, her eyes sparkling.

“He introduced us,” Sansa reminded him.

Jon smiled as well, nodding in agreement.

“Thank you, Ghost,” he said, laying his hand over hers on top of his dog's fur.


	14. Modern AU - Kidnapped Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is missing because she is kidnapped/being held captive by Baelish. Jon is a detective/agent who never stopped looking for his best friend Robb's missing little sister after he was murdered.

The picture remained stuck on the wall of his office, the ends of the paper curling and the name fading slightly, as if he needed to read it to know who it was. It was a reminder, a stubborn determination never to give up. Her eyes were bright, sparkling at him through the camera. Her auburn hair curled to perfection around her shoulders. Jon was certain that she would look different now, so much more like Robb than she already did at eighteen. Her disappearance happened in his first year of being on the force. Now he was celebrating his fifth year as a detective who, along with his partner, had a rate of over ninety percent of his cases solved.

There was a lot that he’d seen in the last five years, but nothing stuck with him like Sansa’s kidnapping and Robb’s murder. He didn’t have a photo of her captor on the wall, but Jon didn’t need it to picture the man. So when his partner peeked his head in, Jon saw Petyr Baelish clearly in his head when Jaime said that he was spotted with a young woman a few towns over. Jon was on his feet before Jaime could even tell him what happened. Sam, their analyst, met them in the hallway.

“We knew that he never left the state so we’ve been keeping an eye on security cameras with technology matched up to his face. Baelish looks quite different now but we’re certain. We’ve tracked him to an apartment on the east side of the town,” he said, handing over pictures.

Jon stared down at him, unable to tell if the woman in them was Sansa. Her hair was too dark and her head was lowered away from the camera in each picture. The sight of Robb’s killer sent a stab of fury through him and Jon had to remind himself that he was lucky to have this case. He couldn’t ruin it by being personally invested in seeing Petyr Baelish’s life come to an end.

“You ready for this?” Jaime asked, knowing exactly what was at stake here.

He’d been there when Jon got the news that his best friend was dead, murdered by the very man who took Sansa. Jaime, for all of his faults, had never questioned Jon’s near-obsession with the case. Despite the rest of his family’s antagonism towards Governor Ned Stark and his family, Jaime had a respect for the Starks. At Jon’s nod, Jaime grinned and clapped his hands together.

“We’ve been waiting for Littlefucker to make a mistake for five years and now he’s done it. I’ll never be more ready, if I may say so myself.”

Jon couldn’t help but feel grateful towards his partner. Jaime was good at keeping the attention off of him when he didn’t want it.

“Mormont has called up a SWAT team that will meet you there,” Sam said, watching as they replaced their suit jackets with bulletproof vests.

Jon holstered two handguns, one on his hip and the other on his ankle, clipping his badge to his belt. He pictured Robb in his mind as he shoved clips into his pockets, wanting to be sure that he had enough ammunition if it turned into a firefight. It wasn’t likely that he’d even have to shoot, considering it was one guy against twenty, but Jon was going to be prepared for anything. If Sansa was with Baelish, he was going to get her out safely.

“Cheer up, Snow. You get to save the damsel today,” Jaime said, nudging him with an elbow

He took a deep breath and nodded, indicating that he was prepared. The drive was quick, a police escort getting them to the town without issue. Once they neared the block, Jon and Jaime joined the SWAT team in the alleyway. The leader walked to them.

“We’ve evacuated every apartment unit except the one in question. It’s on the fifth floor at the end of the hallway. We have thermal imaging that shows us that the girl’s inside with him.”

Jon didn’t reply, focusing on Sansa’s face as he remembered it.

“What’s the plan?” the team leader asked

Jaime glanced at Jon, deferring to his judgment

“Get the girl away from him and put him under arrest with as little force as necessary. We don’t want any deaths out of this. She is our priority,” he said, the words sounding wrong even as he spoke them.

Of course he wanted Baelish’s head on a spike but he would get his due. All Jon wanted was Sansa safe again and with what remained of her family.

“Let’s go.” Jaime nodded once they organized the attack.

They were led in by two of the SWAT members, their guns lifted to eye level as they neared the apartment. Jon’s heart thundered in his chest, anticipation filling him as he waited to see whether or not five years of never giving up had paid off.

“One, two, three,” one of the men mouthed at them.

It all happened quickly, the door was slammed open and they poured in, clearing every room until they got to the bedroom. When the door was knocked off of it’s hinges, Jon looked in to see that Baelish was holding a gun in shaking hands, aiming it at them. His pointed beard had been shaved off and his hair was dyed brown to remove any trace of the silver streaks. In the corner, a huddled woman was breathing heavily, peering at them through a curtain of dark brown hair. Jon couldn’t tell who she was but he didn’t get to look for long.

“Put it down! Put the gun down!” men were shouting.

Baelish didn’t hear any of them. He was staring straight at Jon as if seeing a ghost. He knew that he looked like Ned Stark at a young age, despite not being related to him at all. Baelish knew Sansa’s mother and father many years ago, which is how he came to develop an obsession with her.

Jon aimed his gun at him.

“Put it down,” he said in a low voice.

Baelish didn’t even move.

“You’re under arrest, Baelish, for the murder of Robb Stark and the kidnapping of Sansa Stark,” Jon said warningly.

As if saying her name snapped him out of his trance, Baelish’s eyes flashed with fury.

“No!” he roared, his eyes growing wild as he glared at Jon. “You will not take her away from me again!”

Several shots fired at him as he lunged forward, but it was Jon’s that struck him between the eyes and killed him. The woman didn’t even scream, watching as Baelish’s body crumpled to the ground. Jon was all but shoved out of the way when they brought the paramedics in. He remained in the shadows as they helped her out of the room.

“What’s your name, sweetie?” the female paramedic questioned.

“Sansa. Sansa Stark,” she said in a small voice.

Jon let out a sigh of relief, slumping back against the wall, the gun hanging loosely from his hand. He looked up at the ceiling, sending a prayer to his best friend.

“For you, Robb,” he murmured, tears stinging his eyes.

Once the scene was cleared, Jaime walked out with Jon, his arm slung over his shoulders.

“That was a hell of a shot, Snow,” he said appreciatively. “I’ll have to write about that one on my report. Best damn kill shot I’ve seen in a decade.”

Jon smirked over at him, shoving him away before stripping off his bulletproof vest.

“You have fun with that, Lannister. I’m going to go to the hospital," he said.

“Give my best to Miss Stark,” Jaime said, nodding at him.

Jon nodded back, accepting a ride from a patrol car. He knew that Sansa’s family would be showing up soon so he wouldn’t have long with her. The hospital staff led him right to Sansa's room, an advantage of his badge that he was eager to use. Jon hovered at the door, watching as she stood by the window wearing pale blue scrubs rather than the normal hospital gown. Her unnaturally dark hair was braided over her shoulder but he could see a little bit of her natural auburn color shining through at the roots. When he cleared his throat, she gasped and turned, her eyes widening.

“Oh," Sansa said, putting her hand to her chest.

Jon didn’t know what to say, now that he was faced with her. Her cheekbones were high and defined, much like her mother's, and her lips were dark pink and her eyes as blue as ever. She was beautiful.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asked, feeling ridiculous even as he said it.

Sansa pretended not to hear him, stepping forward.

“They told me… they… they said that someone named Detective Snow shot him,” she said softly, tugging at the end of her braid. “Jon, did you kill him?”

He swallowed hard, giving her a nod as his words failed him. Sansa’s eyes welled with tears and she was suddenly throwing herself into his arms. Jon held her closely, burying his face in her hair. Sansa trembled against him as he led her to the bed, gathering in his arms as they sat down on the mattress together.

“I dreamed of you when I was with him,” Sansa whispered with her face tucked into his shoulder.

Jon pulled away to look down at her.

“I dreamed of you too,” he said in a rough voice.

Sansa cupped her hand over his cheek, letting out a quiet sob.

“Thank you, Jon. For not giving up on me.”

He reached up, covering her hand in his.

“I would never.”


	15. Modern/Canon AU - Reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon/Sansa reincarnation

“Why do you want to go to some dusty old castle instead of shopping?” Laura asked, sounding as though she hardly understood.

Sansa stood outside, looking up at the walls of the great keep that overlooked King’s Landing. It felt strange, being there when she’d heard so many stories that had been passed down by her family.

“There’s a lot of history here. My ancestors spent time in this place. Some of them even died here. I just want to see what it’s like,” she said, stepping up as she pulled out her wallet.

Her friend hesitated where she stood.

“It creeps me out.”

Sansa glanced back at her, shrugging simply.

“Then don’t come,” she suggested before turning back.

As she walked into the courtyard alone, Sansa noticed that it was not too crowded. It wasn’t surprising. The storm clouds outside likely kept anyone from wanting tours even of the great Red Keep. Her eyes fell on the Great Hall and she headed straight for it, wondering if the historic Iron Throne would actually be in the throne room. Sansa was one of the only ones in there when she stepped inside and sure enough, the terrible throne loomed before her. Her footsteps echoed around the hall as she approached it, her hand trailing over the pillars. They felt warm, to her surprise, and when she closed her eyes, she could almost hear the chattering of courtiers as they waited upon their monarch’s arrival.

Sansa walked to the center of the room, looking straight up at the throne of melted swords. She looked up, turning in a circle on the spot as she considered what it must have been like, to attend court in a silk gown with beautifully dressed people all around her. Suddenly, an angry voice echoed through her head, accusing her of things that were not her fault. Sansa winced at the whistle of mailed fists through the air. Her back stung with a phantom pain as she staggered forward, catching herself before she fell to the ground. A faint taste of blood lingered in her mouth and she realized that she’d bitten her lip, lifting her hand to press a finger over the small cut.

_“Leave her face, I like her pretty.”_

She turned her head this way and that, wondering if someone had truly spoken or if her mind was playing tricks on her. With one last look up at the throne, she hurried out to the courtyard once more, taking a deep breath. Sansa rubbed at her head as she made her way to the godswood, knowing what awaited her there. The heart trees always held a fascination for her, as her family used to honor the old gods hundreds of years ago. The path was well worn, leading her deeper as signs pointed towards the tree. When she reached it, Sansa stopped short when she realized that she was not alone. A young man sat on a boulder before it, staring up at the face on the great oak tree with a solemn look. Her weight shifted and a twig snapped beneath her foot, causing him to glance over at her. His face was achingly familiar and her hands itched at her side, longing to touch his dark curls.

“I’m sorry,” Sansa said, taking a step back as he stood.

“It’s all right,” he said, looking at her strangely.

His voice sparked something within her that almost sent her staggering again.

_“All hail His Grace, Jon of Houses Targaryen and Stark, First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!”_

Sansa did not know that she had almost fallen to the ground until his hand was on her arm, steadying her.

“Jon,” she breathed, looking at him with wide eyes.

He frowned at her with confusion, yet reached up to brush a lock of hair from her face.

_“I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days."_

Sansa clutched at him, her head pulsing as she felt trapped between two different times. Two different lives.

_“With this kiss, I pledge my love.”_

“Sansa,” he sighed, and she wondered if he was hearing and feeling what she did.

Her hands came up, sliding into his hair as her fingers twisted around the dark strands.

“My Jon,” she murmured, pressing her forehead against his.

 _“I love you, my dearest Sansa._ ”

“Could this be true?” Jon said, looking into her bright blue eyes with his own Stark grey.

Sansa gave him a soft smile, feeling renewed as she realized what had been missing from her life, all this time.

“I hope so more than anything, my love. For if it is not, I shall curse this dream,” she sighed, feeling overwhelmed with joy at his presence.

Jon glanced around, his hand sliding into hers.

“This world is much more agreeable than our last,” he acknowledged.

Sansa nodded in agreement, smiling as she turned his chin to face her once more.

“Then let us make the most of it, my Jon,” she said, pulling him in for a kiss.


	16. Modern AU - Jon spends the night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That's a good look for you."

Jon knew without a doubt that Sansa was someone who often liked to keep her personal spaces to herself and didn’t want them invaded by anyone else, even those that she loved. He remembered that much from childhood. Her room was a no-entry zone that even Arya and Bran respected. Now that they were grown, nothing had changed. Robb had mentioned to him that none of them even got the chance to see her apartment despite the fact that she’d lived there for three years.

So when he was invited to stay with her for the night, he knew that it was not something to be taken lightly. It was a beautiful place, with large windows overlooking the city and the interior decorated in a subtle yet beautiful way. It was all completely Sansa and he loved every inch of it because it reminded him so much of her. Yet he knew that there were still limits, as proved by her hesitant expression as he glanced around the night before. Jon did not go anywhere unless she did so first, knowing that would be a safe way to discover his limits. Sansa appreciated his consideration, only waiting a few minutes before dragging him into her bedroom.

The next morning, he awoke with the sun filtering through the curtains, and his face buried into a pillow that smelled like her. Yet, when he felt around, Jon realized that he was alone in the bed. He climbed off and pulled his jeans on before going into the bathroom. After washing up, he walked out with a wary expression on his face. Sansa was nowhere to be found, though he could hear her soft singing from somewhere in the apartment. Jon followed the sound carefully, not wanting to invade where he was not welcome.

When he saw the door wide open, he knew enough about her to know that it was an invitation. He stepped into the doorway silently, leaning against it with a surprised look. Sansa sat on a stool, his flannel button-down hanging loosely on her frame as she chewed on the end of a paintbrush. In all his years of knowing her, Jon had never actually seen her in the act of painting. She often showed him her finished art but the process was something that she kept to herself. He studied her profile, knowing that she knew he was there.

They both remained quiet and he watched as she brushed the paintbrush over the canvas with gentle strokes. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun, tendrils of the fiery locks escaping the hair tie. Her legs were bare, her toes tapping against the floor as she sang. Jon loved seeing her so relaxed and happy, knowing that Sansa was giving him a glimpse into herself more than anything.

“What do you think?” she finally spoke, glancing over at him shyly.

Jon didn’t even look at the canvas, walking to her with a small smile.

“That’s a good look for you,” he said, bending over to press a soft kiss to her lips.

She smiled up at him, a light flush on her cheeks, and Jon knew that this was _home_.


	17. Canon AU - Eloping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa eloping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa know that they're cousins already.

“Jon, please. I can’t go to King’s Landing. I can’t marry him. You’ve seen how he is. He’s a monster,” Sansa pleaded, tears gathered in her eyes as she stood before him in his chambers.

He reached out, tugging her into his arms.

“I won’t let that happen,” Jon said, stroking her hair.

She clutched at him, burying her face in his neck.

“What are we going to do, Jon?” Sansa whispered after several moments.

He sighed heavily, pulling away to look down at her.

“Do you trust me?” Jon asked, cradling her face in his hands.

She nodded immediately, not even having to think about it before giving her answer.

“Then wait for me tonight.”

Sansa pulled him down for a brief kiss, knowing that they would be looking for her. Later that night, after yet another banquet to celebrate the king’s presence in Winterfell, Sansa paced before her fire restlessly. She’d dismissed her maid, knowing that no one could be around for whatever Jon had planned. When the knock came, she ran to her door and threw it open. Jon was dressed in travel clothing, a thick cloak over his leather jerkin and rough spun breeches.

“We don’t have much time. Get your warmest dress,” he instructed.

Sansa did as he said, shedding her dressing gown without hesitation. Jon helped lace her into the dark grey wool dress and, as she pulled a fur-lined cloak around her shoulders, he handed her riding boots to her. Sansa pulled on thick stockings before shoving them onto her feet.

“Where are we going, Jon?” she asked, letting him pull her out of the room.

He didn’t answer, almost forcing her to run to keep up alongside him. When they got outside, Ghost and Lady met them at the kennels. The two direwolves were silent, following them as they walked across the deserted courtyard. Everyone else in Winterfell was asleep except for the guards at the gate, who they were easily able to evade as they made their way to the godswood. By the time they reached the heart tree, Sansa was breathless and clutching at Jon.

“Do you love me?” he asked, turning to her.

“You know that I do,” Sansa said, pressing her hand to his cheek.

In the moonlight, her skin looked porcelain. Jon sighed, laying his hand over hers before tugging her to the tree.

“Who comes before the gods?” he asked.

Sansa realized what was happening, her breath hitching in her throat.

“Sansa, daughter of Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North,” she answered, a shiver running through her that had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

Jon squeezed her hand comfortingly.

“Who comes before the gods?” she asked in return.

“Jon, son of Rhaegar Targaryen, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

They sank to their knees at once, bowing their head to the carved face of the weirwood. Sansa said a silent prayer, pleading with the old gods to look on them kindly and with mercy.

“What vow do you make, Sansa?” Jon said, his icy breath mingling in the air as he looked over at her.

“I am his and he is mine from this day until the end of my days,” she breathed, looking back at him with her heart pounding in her chest.

Jon inhaled sharply, unable to resist pulling her hand up to his mouth to press a soft kiss to her knuckles. Sansa couldn't help but smile at the gentle, intimate gesture.

“What vow do you make, Jon?” she asked.

“I am hers and she is mine from this day until the end of my days.”

They stood at the same time, turning to face each other.

“With this kiss, I pledge my love,” Sansa said, stepping closer to him.

Jon murmured the same in reply before pulling her into him. She tilted her head back, her hands sliding into his hair as they kissed, pouring every emotion into their embrace. Jon pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers as their direwolves circled them warily, somehow aware of the many dangers that threatened their humans.

“We cannot stay,” he whispered.

“I know,” Sansa said.

Jon pressed another soft kiss to her lips before they were on the move again. This time, their path led them to the stables. Awaiting them was Jon’s horse, ready for their journey. Jon helped her into the saddle before retrieving a sword and dagger from one of the stalls. Sansa held onto the reins, watching as he tied them onto his belt. Once he was ready, Jon swung into the saddle behind her.

“The guards,” she said.

“Robb took care of them,” he answered, pulling her hood up onto her head before doing the same to his own.

She felt a stab of devastation in her heart, for the brother that she loved.

“He knew?” she whispered.

“Arya too. They wanted to see you married to Joffrey about as much as I did,” he said in a dark tone, urging the horse quietly out of the stables.

Ghost and Lady were on either side of them, remaining faithful with every step. Sure enough, Robb and Arya were standing on either side of the gates when they approached.

“Take care of her, Jon,” her brother said as tears filled Sansa’s eyes.

He nodded in agreement. Robb reached up to Sansa, allowing their hands to touch briefly.

“Thank you,” she choked out, looking between him and Arya.

“Take care of him,” her little sister said, nodding at Jon with misty eyes.

She let out a laugh through her tears, nodding in agreement.

“I will,” she vowed.

As soon as the others stepped away, Jon kicked the horse’s sides. They were galloping through winter town within minutes, their direwolves a grey and white blur on either side of them.

“They won’t stop looking for us,” Sansa said as they hurtled away from Winterfell.

“They won’t find us,” Jon promised her, his arms safely fitted around her.

She knew that he meant his words. He did not say things unless he meant them, a habit from a lifetime of being forced to act as Ned Stark’s bastard. Sansa relaxed against him, feeling confident that she made the right decision even though it took her away from her family and her home. Jon was worth it all, no matter what awaited them.


	18. Modern AU - Modern Royalty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon/Sansa following in the footsteps of their counterparts Rhegar/Lyanna and carrying on the tradition of Targaryen Princes falling in love with engaged Stark women.

The event was a lavish affair, as was expected from the Targaryen monarchs of Westeros. Noble families came from across the Seven Kingdoms to celebrate the engagement of Prince Aegon to Myrcella Baratheon. Jon was happy for his brother but, as he fidgeted with the bow tie around his neck, he couldn’t help but wish people had simply sent gifts instead.

“Relax, Jon. Maybe we’ll find you a fiancé at this party.” his best friend suggested, throwing his arm over Jon’s shoulders.

He shoved Robb Stark away with a good-natured scowl.

“Yes, and my brother and I will have a double wedding,” Jon said sarcastically, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his long curls.

Robb simply laughed, clapping him on the back as they waited for their sisters to make their appearance. Rhaenys had sung the many praises of Sansa Stark but Jon had yet to meet the young woman who impressed his sister so. When they heard the sound of heels, their heads turned to see the two walking towards them, both laughing without a care in the world. Rhaenys wore a dark red dress, the black detailing of the silks as well as her jewelry keeping with the Targaryen colors. Sansa, however, wore a pale lavender dress. Instead of twisting her hair into the complicated southern style that many of the women were attempting tonight, her fire-kissed hair flowed freely around her shoulders in soft waves. Jon couldn’t deny that she was beautiful, her bright blue eyes sparkling as she glanced over at them.

“I suggest an experiment,” Rhaenys said as they reached them.

“Which I think is entirely wicked of her, if I may say so,” Sansa threw in with a smile.

Jon’s sister shrugged, looking careless.

“Robb, you will escort me and Jon will escort Sansa,” she said, sliding a hand into the crook of Robb’s arm.

Both of the men were stunned for a moment.

“Is that a good idea?” Jon asked, glancing over at Sansa.

The glaring presence of a sparkling ring on her left hand made it clear that she was not available and having another man who was not her brother or fiancé escort her into the party was a sure way to start rumors amongst the elite of Westeros.

“It is a fantastic one. Come along,” Rhaenys said, gesturing to them.

Sansa turned to Jon with a slight smile.

“I do apologize. Though I know that you are aware that convincing your sister to change her mind is rather difficult,” she sighed, twisting the ring around on her finger as if it made her uncomfortable.

Jon hesitated for a moment before holding his arm out to her.

“If we’re going to start a scandal, we may as well have fun with it,” he suggested.

Sansa grinned at him, making his chest clench as he returned the smile. Her hand was warm even through his tuxedo jacket as she placed it on the inside of his arm.

“Perhaps we’ll make the front page,” she said with a wry smile.

Jon couldn't help but laugh at her words as they entered the ballroom. Sure enough, whispers cropped up around them as they wondered why she was not on the arm of her fiancé, Joffrey Baratheon. Jon wasn’t certain, but he thought that the heir to Storm’s End turned a curious purple shade as he led Sansa towards his family to present her to the king and queen of Westeros, as his sister did with Robb. Once the introductions were made, the engagement party continued. Jon watched as Sansa made her way around, greeting friends and enchanting nobles.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Rhaenys said, standing beside him.

“She is,” Jon nodded in agreement.

When they saw Joffrey seize her arm and pull her in with an angry look, similar frowns formed upon their faces.

“He doesn’t deserve her,” his sister said unhappily.

Jon looked over at her, recognizing the concern in her eyes and feeling it mirrored in his own chest.

“Unfortunately, sister, that is not up to us,” he said, taking a long drink of champagne before drifting off.

*****

It was only weeks after his brother’s wedding that he got the call. Sansa was in the city and his sister was in Dorne visiting her mother’s family, which meant that it fell to Jon to meet her, not that anyone would hear him complain.

“Thank you for meeting me, Your Highness,” she said, smiling sweetly at him across the table at the small coffee shop.

“It was my pleasure, Lady Sansa,” he replied.

Sansa frowned slightly as she stirred her drink.

“Please, just Sansa."

He felt warmth stirring within him that he tried to shove aside. No matter how kind and lovely she was, she was still engaged and he should not allow himself to get too attached to her. It was one thing to jest about starting a scandal but another thing entirely to dishonor her in any way.

“Then I insist that you call me Jon,” he said, his words betraying him.

She smiled at him, looking quite pleased much to his relief. They conversed easily over several cups of coffee. Jon eagerly took in anything she said of the North. He had not been there in ages, yet it still felt like home as she spoke of it.

“Everyone tells me that I have the look of the south but I find myself happier in the North,” Sansa said quietly once she finished telling him of the hot springs near Winterfell.

When her eyes met his, they were sparkling with something hidden that he wanted to discover.

“Though I am finding myself becoming more partial to King’s Landing,” she said teasingly.

Jon hated the happiness that swelled within him, thinking of his father and mother. It seemed that it was a pattern, Targaryen princes falling in love with engaged Stark women. His mother, the queen, was a distant cousin to Ned Stark, but a Stark nonetheless. She had been engaged to a Baratheon as well. History repeated itself most ironically and Jon knew that he should use his father’s experiences as a warning as a war almost broke out around the time of his birth. But as he looked into her warm eyes and saw her small smile, he knew that he truly had no choice.

*****

Rumors swirled and everyone awaited the breaking news that would confirm their suspicions about the Targaryen prince and the first daughter of the Lord of Winterfell. Yet when the news of an affair broke, it was not Jon and Sansa’s names emblazoned in bold letters across the newspapers and spoken with disdain on the news.

**SCANDAL IN STORM’S END: BARATHEON HEIR PHOTOGRAPHED IN INTIMATE POSITION WITH TYRELL BEAUTY**

Jon read over the article several times, listening to his sister ramble away about how Sansa was better off without marrying Joffrey. When he stood, Rhaenys looked up at him with a knowing glance.

“Father says to take Ghost if you insist on traveling by yourself,” she said, flipping through the pages of a tabloid.

He simply grinned at his sister, bending down to kiss her forehead before hurrying out of the room. Several days later, he found himself standing in the courtyard of Winterfell castle. His breath was visible before him and he was wrapped up in several layers but he could barely feel the cold. When he heard hurried steps, he turned to see Sansa almost running towards him.

She was in jeans and a thick coat, her hair thrown up into a messy ponytail with a scarf around her neck. In his eyes, she had never looked so beautiful. There was a light flush in her cheeks and a small smile on her face as she stopped just in front of him. Jon’s eyes moved to her hand and he exhaled with relief at the sight of her bare left hand. Sansa reached out to take his hand, squeezing it lightly.

“It’s about time,” she said, tugging him closer.

Jon didn’t have to hear another word as he pulled her in for a gentle kiss.


	19. Canon AU - Sansa's scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa & Jon who are married but Sansa is really nervous because she afraid Jon will be disgusted by her scars & she's afraid to believe that he could find her desirable.

Sansa did not know who shouted it, but when the words echoed around the Great Hall, she felt panic rising within her.

“Time for the bedding!”

Her eyes turned to Jon, seeing that his jaw was clenched and his hand held his cup so tightly that the scars stood out even more than they already did. His eyes met hers and he seemed to read her silent plea with ease, standing up.

“No.,” he said loudly.

His voice held such an authority that the raucous excitement at the prospect of stripping the bride down to her smallclothes died down. Even the king and queen, his kin, did not argue with him, looking on with understanding. Sansa looked up at him with wide eyes as he turned to her, holding his hand out.

“My lady?” Jon said.

She slid her hand into his hesitantly, knowing that there was no way to escape this. Sansa kept her head bowed as he escorted her out of the hall, hiding the fact that her face as pale as snow instead of a pleased flush lighting up her cheeks. Jon held her hand firmly in his as they approached her chambers. Sansa knew that he was trying to make her feel as comfortable as possible, which just made everything worse. As soon as they were inside, she hovered by the bed with uncertainty, her hands twisting in her lovely bridal gown.

“Would you like wine?” he asked, gesturing to the summerwine that had been left for them.

Sansa nodded, watching as he poured a generous amount of it. She took the cup with a shaking hand, breathing in a steadying breath as she stared into the fire. _Gods give me strength,_ she thought desperately. For without their help, she would likely lose her grip on her emotions and everything would come pouring out in a disgusting show of tears, which would not make for a very good wedding night.

“Sansa?” Jon asked, his voice filled with concern.

She closed her eyes for a moment before turning her head to him, looking into his dark eyes.

“I am no maid,” Sansa said, the words slipping out before she knew it.

Her voice was hoarse, heavy with the weight of her thoughts. Jon looked at her sadly and tenderly, reaching out to brush his fingers over her cheek so gently that she nearly lost the tight grip on her tears.

“I thought as much. I would be a fool if I were to care about such things,” he said, a hint of anger in his voice at the men who came before him, who hurt her.

Sansa did not feel better at his words, turning away to take a long drink of the wine before setting it down. Her dress felt constricting around her, as though the marks on her back were burning through the fabric to make themselves known. She let out a cross between a gasp and a whimper, clutching at her bodice.

“Sansa?” Jon said once more, just behind her. “Please tell me what ails you.”

He put his hand on her shoulder gently and she felt her eyes burn with tears.

“I fear you will think me foolish, Jon. And when you see, I just know that you will think me a horrid sight,” Sansa said, voicing her poisonous thoughts as she squeezed her eyes shut.

When he let out a deep chuckle, she turned her head with wide eyes. Jon rarely ever laughed, much less in such a way, but his eyes were warm and they crinkled at the corners. It would have been a comforting sight, were she not so lost within the cold grip of her fear.

“I do not believe that anything to do with you could ever be described as horrid, much less the sight of you.”

The words did nothing to assure her. Jon did not know what he spoke of. He did not know what awaited him beneath the layers of clothing that hid her shame. She slipped away from him, one tear sliding down her cheek as she untied the laces on her gown. They were on the front, unlike most of her gowns. Jon caught her hands, stilling them with a wide-eyed look.

“We do not have to do this tonight if you wish. We can wait as long as you like, until you are entirely comfortable.”

Sansa shook her head. He had to see. He had to know what he agreed to now so that their marriage did not go on with such things unknown. At least then, he could make a decision. If Jon was disgusted, as she imagined he would be, then he could possibly ask his aunt and brother for an annulment. If he never bedded her, it would be easier to achieve such a thing. Her hands shook violently as she tried to unlace her dress once more and yet Jon stopped her again, pulling her into his arms.

“Please, sweet girl, tell me what makes you shake. I cannot bear to see you so distressed without knowing the cause. Perhaps if you tell me—”

“I can’t. I have to show you,” Sansa cut him off with a desperate edge to her words.

Jon frowned down at her, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the smooth skin on the inside of her wrists. Rather than look into his terribly warm and accepting eyes, Sansa concentrated on loosening her laces, looking down at her trembling fingers.

“When Robb was—” they both winced at the mention of his name. “When the war was fought, Joffrey sought someone to blame for his army’s losses and the victories of the northern armies. I was an easy target. Almost no one would speak for me and he was good at finding times when those select few were not available.”

Her voice was low and clear, steady despite the turmoil that her emotions were in. Jon inhaled sharply at the reminder of the cruel king. He’d heard rumors of what took place in Joffrey's court, they all had. How much was true, he’d never asked her, knowing that if she wanted to speak to him about it, she would come to him. When her gown fell to her waist, Sansa took a deep breath before pushing it down to her feet.

“Sansa, if you want to wait—”

“I have to show you, Jon,” she repeated stubbornly. “If I don't do it tonight, I fear that I never shall.”

Though she felt pained at the thought that he might not want her after he saw, Sansa turned away from him, capturing one of his hands loosely in hers. She tugged him towards the bed, sitting on it before him. Only when she felt the bed dip behind her did she set about untying the ribbons on her shift. Her entire body was trembling now, sobs threatening to overtake her as she slid the thin fabric off of one shoulder, then the other. His love, no matter how sweet and lovely, could not extend to the marring of her skin.

No man would accept a wife with such ugly marks etched upon her skin.

When her shift fell to her hips, she pulled her hair over her shoulder and bared her back to him in the soft firelight of the room. Jon inhaled sharply, a rough gasp that caused her eyes to close. Sansa knew what he was seeing, having looked upon the pale expanse of skin many times in the mirror. The silvery lines crisscrossed her back, some more raised than others. Haunting reminders echoed through her mind, taunting remarks thrown to her as the sword struck her back and blood seeped into her gown.

“I told you, Jon. I am horrible now,” she choked out.

“Sansa,” he sighed, sounding devastated and reassuring all at once. “Sweet girl, you do not see yourself.”

His words confused her, but not nearly as much as the press of his lips to her shoulder. Jon was shifting her around, pushing her off of the bed before she could protest. Sansa started to turn towards him, a flush forming in her cheeks as she realized that she was almost completely bared to him. He did not let her move, keeping her facing away from him as he sat on the bed behind her, his hands on her hips. The shift fell to the ground, leaving her in smallclothes. His breath washed over her back as he sighed heavily.

“You are the most exquisite sight I have ever had the pleasure of laying my eyes upon, Sansa,” he breathed, ghosting his lips over one of the scars. “And seeing your scars does not change my mind about that.”

She let out a sob, clutching at her throat as he kissed over the marks, chasing away the horrible memories with the touch of his lips. Sansa reached down, taking one of his hands in hers as she felt the warmth of his lips on her marred skin.

“There is none more beautiful than you, my lovely wife.”

She shook at his words, feeling as if she might just crumple to the ground in utter relief. Jon’s hands and his mouth were surely the only things holding her up. When he finally allowed her to turn around, Sansa did not have the time to feel ashamed at being so bared before him. His lips trailed over her skin as his fingers unlaced her smallclothes and his dark eyes looked up at her with desire and love mingling in their depths. Sansa slid her fingers into his hair, letting out a whisper of a sigh when his hands pushed the last bit of cloth down her legs. She stepped out of the smallclothes, feeling very exposed before him, as he still had all of his clothing on.

Jon pulled her in closer, his hands exploring her skin as she felt her body warming from within, heat pooling between her thighs. One of his hands trailed up her thigh before pulling her back onto the bed. His clothing was shed quickly. Their lovemaking was as gentle as can be, as they took their time to learn each other’s bodies. They whispered and cried and shouted their love for each other as they coupled. Afterward, Sansa found herself lying flush against his side with her head pillowed on his chest. A small smile lingered on her lips and she relished in the delightful ache between her thighs. Jon’s hand was on her back, lightly tracing over the scars. When she lifted her head, she folded her hands on his chest and settled her chin upon them.

"I thought my time had passed, that I would not get something like this,” she admitted quietly.

“What do you mean?” Jon asked, brushing his knuckles over her cheek gently.

Sansa closed her eyes against the touch, marveling at the fact that the man that everyone saw as the hardened warrior, as the prince that was promised who rose from the dead, was so very gentle and loving with her.

“I thought that my song was ending, in King’s Landing and then the Vale. I was certain that I would die before experiencing such happiness with anyone. Much less someone like you,” she said, finishing her thought.

Jon stroked his fingers through her hair, causing her eyes to open once more.

“We will write a song of our own now,” he suggested.

Sansa smiled at him, pressing a kiss over his heart. It was not like Jon to say such fanciful things and she knew the words were for her, for the young girl that she thought was long since gone, but that he managed to bring out of her with little effort.

“Yes, I suppose we shall.”


	20. Modern AU - Surprise Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa don't see each other for years, however, when they meet again, Jon finds out she's had a child.

It was strange, how a place could look the same yet entirely different at the same time. Jon hadn’t been in Winterfell for several years and he felt like an outsider despite the fact that he spent his first nineteen years of life there. He did not know what his welcome would be like but he had a general idea. It was wrong of him, to disappear so soon after the funeral. Jon knew that and he would spend as much time as he could making amends. After traveling for years, trying to forget about the ache that his mother’s death left in him, he realized that it would never be forgotten but that he didn’t need to let it control him or his life. That was when he decided to return to his childhood home and the family that had taken him in at a young age. Jon expected annoyance from Robb or Arya, even from their father, at his sudden appearance after so long. But, once he climbed up the steps to the house and knocked on the door, he did not expect to see the cold fury forming in his best friend’s eyes at the sight of him once Robb opened the door.

“Who is it?” Catelyn’s voice rang out.

When she saw him over her son’s shoulder, a similar expression settled in her eyes. Yet she did not forget her manners, always the perfect hostess.

“What are you waiting for, Robb? Invite our guest inside,” she said, turning away from the door.

Jon felt dread settling within him as Robb stepped aside, jerking his head. He stepped over the threshold warily, his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he tried to figure out why they were acting as they were. It was stupid for him to disappear the way that he did, but he did not think that it would be so unforgivable, especially with four years to mend the broken bridges. When Robb led him into the sitting room, the activity within stopped short at once. Ned, the man who had been the only father figure Jon ever knew, looked at him with an expression torn between anger and disappointment, something he never wanted to see aimed at him.

Bran and Rickon were staring at him with open mouths as if they expected anyone but him to walk through the door and didn't quite know how to feel about it. A woman walked to Robb and, when Jon saw their linked hands as well as the ring on her left hand, he understood immediately. He’d missed out on a lot when he was gone. Catelyn sank on the couch to gracefully sit by her husband, a blank expression on her face but anger storming in her bright blue eyes. Arya was the most conflicted out of all of them, her hand clenching down on the knee of the young blue-eyed man next to her, who looked confused at the sudden tension in the room.

Jon was so close to her as they grew up, teaching her all the things that no one else would. Yet she had the same look of fury as Robb. When she stood, Jon wasn’t certain whether to expect a hug. When her fist came down on his face, he knew that he should have known better. He didn’t stagger, she didn’t have quite that much strength. But he knew that he would have a bruise on his cheek. Arya glared at him where she stood, looking satisfied at her right hook that he taught to her when she was far smaller than this. Before he was able to ask what was going on, the answer to his question toddled into the room.

“Help!” the little girl shouted, throwing herself at Robb.

He caught her, lifting her into his arms with ease.

“What is it, sweet girl?”

She pointed at the door that she ran through.

“Mama trying to put bows in my hair! Stop her, Uncle Robb!”

Any hope that Jon had that this was Robb’s daughter disappeared at the words. It was undeniable, with her auburn curls and dark grey eyes. He knew exactly what he’d done that was so unforgivable and, as every eye in the room turned to him, Jon knew that they had every right to hate him. In that moment, he hated himself more than they ever could.

“Lya Snow, get back here or so help me, I will take away your—”

Sansa cut off when she walked into the room, her eyes falling on him immediately. She let out a startled gasp, her hand lifting to press over her mouth. Jon stared back at her, swallowing hard as he saw her for the first time in years. She looked even more beautiful than when he left, her pale skin in contrast to the fiery red hair that fell around her shoulders in soft waves.

“Jon,” Sansa breathed, stepping forward.

He was painfully aware of everyone looking between them. When the little girl, his daughter, finally took notice of him, she was interested in the new face, wriggling in Robb’s arms to get down. He did not allow it, holding her tighter to keep her away from him. Jon didn’t blame him. He was no better than his father, who left his mother pregnant and alone. At least Sansa had her family, though that did not excuse him one bit. She glanced around at them all, biting her lip with hesitation.

“Mom, can you finish getting her ready?” Sansa said.

“Sansa—” Catelyn began to protest.

The words died on her lips when her daughter gave her a cutting look. Without another word, Sansa crossed the room to him, looking more certain with every step. When her hand slipped into his and squeezed lightly, he felt like he would crumple at her feet. Instead, he allowed her to pull him out of the room on numb legs, leading him all the way through the familiar house to the backyard. Once they were on the porch, she released his hand and turned away from him, taking a deep breath.

“Why are you back?” Sansa said after several moments without looking back at him.

Jon didn’t even know how to answer that now.

“I missed Winterfell. I missed your family. I missed you.” he answered, knowing that it wasn't good enough.

She didn’t acknowledge his words at first, her hands gripping the railing of the porch so tightly that her knuckles whitened.

“I named her after your mother. I gave her your last name. I kept hoping—” Sansa cut off, shaking her head.

“If I had known…”

Sansa finally turned to him, anger flashing in her eyes.

“What, Jon? You would have picked up the phone? Oh wait, you didn’t leave us with a damn number! You left me with _nothing_!" she said, her voice getting louder the more than she talked. "Well, I suppose that’s not true. You left me pregnant and alone! For all I knew, the father of my child was dead and I would have never known!”

Jon deserved the yelling and he would stand there taking it all day long. But when the tears filled her eyes, he knew that he could not bear to see her cry.

“I know that there’s nothing that I can say to fix this—” he began.

“No there’s not! If it weren’t for Lya, I would let Robb kick your ass like he’s wanted to do since you walked through the door!” Sansa yelled, tears slipping down her cheeks.

He nodded in agreement, almost wishing that Robb would do that.

“Do you want me to leave?”

The slap stung his cheek as his head flew to the side, somehow making him feel a thousand times worse than the punch that Arya gave him. Sansa was staring at him furiously, yet there was desperation in her eyes.

“So that your daughter can continue to live without a father?” she said, her voice breaking.

“She deserves better than me,” Jon said miserably.

“Well you’re the only father that she has and since you’ve done a pretty shitty job of it so far, I think you have a little catching up to do.”

When the back door opened, they turned to see Robb step out with a tearful Lya in his arms who didn't hesitate to reach out for her mother.

“She heard you shouting,” Robb mumbled, casting a blaming look Jon's way.

Sansa sighed and brushed her tears away quickly before gathering Lya into her arms. The little girl buried her face in Sansa’s hair and clutched at her desperately as Robb hesitated, glancing between them several times before seemingly deciding that he had no place in this conversation. The door closed once more behind them as Jon watched Sansa walk back and forth on the patio, soothing the little girl with even strokes to her hair. He clutched at the railing, knowing that it was the only thing that was keeping him upright.

“I’m so sorry, Sansa,” he said, his voice strained and devastated. “You have to know that I would have never… if I knew, I would have been here.”

She shook her head, tears filling her eyes once more as she stared out at the backyard, refusing to meet his eyes.

“You know what the worst part is?” Sansa said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jon didn’t think that he wanted to know, but she had a right to speak. She let out a bitter, humorless laugh, putting her hand on the back of Lya’s head before looking over at him with the bright blue eyes that he still loved so much.

“I still love you. How pathetic is that?” she said, sniffling once before she pressed a kiss to Lya’s head.

He was crossing the porch to her before he knew it. He ducked his head, laying a gentle kiss upon her forehead. Sansa sighed, tilting her head towards him.

“I won’t leave again,” Jon murmured against her temple.

“Prove it,” Sansa challenged him without missing a beat.

Lya lifted her head, looking up at him curiously and slightly suspiciously.

“Who, Mama?” she asked, looking at Sansa before turning her eyes back to Jon.

He could see more of himself in her face now. She had Sansa’s lips and chin but the slope of his nose and his eyes. Sansa looked up at him as if she was trying to decide something.

“He’s a very special man, Lya," she finally said, looking back at their daughter. "Do you remember me telling you about a man out there who loves you very much but couldn’t be here?”

The little girl’s face screwed up in concentration before she nodded.

“My daddy,” she said confidently.

Jon’s heart ached at the words from her little mouth, hating how much he had missed. Sansa nodded, stroking her hair.

“Yeah, baby girl. This is your daddy,” she said, looking up at Jon.

Her eyes went to his once more, imploring him to do something. _Prove it_ , she had said. He reached out, putting a hand on Lya’s cheek as she stared up at him.

“That’s right, Lya. I’m your daddy,” he said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head softly. “And I do love you very much.”

She looked at him carefully, wary to believe his words.

“Go bye-bye?” she asked.

“No, sweet girl. I’m not going anywhere,” Jon said, glancing up at Sansa as he spoke the words.

She nodded at him, the corners of her lips tugging upwards. He knew that it was a start. When Lya’s small arms wrapped around his neck quite, he felt taken by surprise. Sansa gave her over to him easily, her tears falling freely as she watched them embrace for the first time.

“I love you, Daddy,” his daughter whispered into his ear.

Jon let out a choked sob, not realizing that he was crying as well until the tears overflowed. Sinking to his knees on the porch, Jon buried his face in Lya’s hair as Sansa’s arms wound around them both.

“I love you and Mommy, Lya. I love you both so much,” he assured her.

He had a lot of work to do in proving himself not only to Sansa and his daughter but to himself. He was not going to be his father and his daughter would never doubt his love for her again.


	21. Modern AU - Age Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Age Difference AU

One of the downsides about going to college across the Narrow Sea was that, with their limited student income, Robb and Jon weren’t able to visit home. With four children still in school and work keeping them busy, Robb’s family was unable to visit either. Jon’s mother died when he was young and the Starks took him in, becoming the only family that he had despite the fact that he was not related by blood. So when they pulled up to the house after six years of being away, Robb and Jon were both pretty thrilled.

“I can already smell the food,” his best friend sighed happily.

“How long do you think it’ll take before your mother does our laundry?” Jon questioned, grinning at him as they climbed out of the car.

“Five minutes,” Robb answered without hesitation.

Their laughter faded quickly as the front door flew open. A red blur was all that they saw before someone threw themselves into Robb’s arms with a familiar squeal of delight. He caught her with ease, staggering only a few steps before righting himself. Sansa pulled away and grinned up at him as both Robb and Jon gaped at her. When they left, she was an awkward twelve-year-old with braces and knobbly knees. Sure, she was pretty enough but still a child. Now, the second oldest Stark child had grown into an undeniably beautiful young woman. Jon only remembered at the last second how protective his friend was over his sister and looked away before Robb could notice his appreciation of all that Sansa had become.

“I can’t believe you’re home,” she said happily, jumping down from Robb’s arms.

Neither of them got another word in before she turned to Jon, wrapping her arms around his neck. He held her close, trying not to seem too eager to embrace her. The sweet scent of her perfume surrounded him and Jon found it absolutely delightful.

“Hello, Jon,” Sansa said, pulling away with a small smile.

“Hi, Sansa,” he replied, feeling ridiculous as he nodded at her.

She didn’t notice, grabbing their hands to drag them inside.

“They’re here!” she announced happily.

They were surrounded as soon as the words left her mouth. Arya leaped on Jon, all gangly limbs with her short dark hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail. She wore a dirty soccer uniform, looking completely opposite to Sansa, who had her hair curled to perfection and not a wrinkle in her clothes. Catelyn and Ned welcomed them with warm hugs as Bran and Rickon demanded to hear stories of their adventures in Essos.

“Let them settle, boys. I’m sure they’re tired from their journey,” Catelyn said with a fond smile.

As the door closed, they could smell the food wafting from the kitchen.

“It smells great, Mom,” Robb said, grinning at her.

“Thank your sister. She made it all.” Catelyn said, looking at Sansa.

They both glanced her way with surprise as her cheeks lit up with a pleased flush. Dinner was absolutely fantastic, as everyone got caught up with one another. Robb eagerly told stories of their time at school as well as their travels with the occasional input from Jon, keeping everyone entertained. He did not miss the looks that Sansa sent his way even when he wasn't talking, interest and fascination all in one. He’d had his share of girls in his time at school, but none of them made his heart race like Sansa did when she turned her bright blue eyes on him. Once they were finished with dinner, Jon volunteered to take dishes into the kitchen. Everyone knew better than to argue with him, even when he started washing them. When he heard someone entering the kitchen, he didn’t think anything of it until her sweet perfume filled his senses once more.

“You missed a few,” Sansa said softly, reaching around him to put them in the sink.

Jon looked down at her, the angle giving him an excellent view of her chest. He swallowed hard, almost dropping the plates in his hand.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he said, setting it down as he turned to face her.

She smiled at him, watching as he dried his hands off on a dishtowel. As soon as he set it down, she was in his arms. Her hands slid into his hair as her soft lips pressed against his. Jon had alarm bells going off in his head but he ignored every one of them, letting his arms wrap around her back to pull her in closer. Sansa nibbled at his lower lip, smiling against his lips as he groaned lightly.

“Sansa,” Jon mumbled, pulling away from her. “Robb would kill me if he saw this.”

She let out a low, musical laugh, pulling him in for one more kiss.

“I’m not a little girl anymore, Jon. Robb doesn’t get to decide what I do and I definitely intend to do a lot more of this,” she said, winking at him as she turned to walk off.

Jon stared after her, his heart racing in his chest as he clutched at the counter.

“Shit,” he said after a while, realizing just how screwed he was.


	22. Canon AU - Tyrion is Lord of Winterfell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa has taken Winterfell and is married to Tyrion. Jon comes to Winterfell and Sansa asks only one thing: kill Tyrion.

She could have been made out of ice for all the emotion that Sansa showed when Jon walked into the Great Hall of Winterfell. The castle was nearly at the end of being restored by the gold of the very man sitting next to his cousin. Tyrion greeted Jon warmly, fondly remembering their time on the Wall together and sharing stories of all his adventures. Jon waited for Sansa to even acknowledge him, but she stared at the wall past his shoulder as she sipped on a cup of wine without saying a word.

She was beautiful, but she disconcerted him in a way that no other woman ever had, even her lady mother. The Sansa that he knew before had always been open with her emotions yet now she was so closed off that he could not even see if she was angry that he was there. Jon felt a deep-seated stab of annoyance that all she seemed to show was indifference. He’d traveled from King’s Landing to help them with the free folk on his aunt’s command. The least that she could do was acknowledge his presence. Throughout their dinner, Sansa still did not speak at all, still staring off as if no one else was there.

“Pardon my wife,” Tyrion said with a slightly bitter edge to his voice, finally acknowledging Sansa’s behavior. “Her thoughs run deep and sometimes forgets that she is around others altogether.”

Her blue eyes, the color of winter roses and as cold as the Wall that no longer existed, turned on her husband and hinted at anger.

“I am tired," she said, speaking for the first time in a flinty voice. "I shall retire for the night and allow you to reminisce about better times in peace.”

Her voice was soft, yet there was steel beneath the melodic tones. As she stood, her eyes flitted over to Jon and, watching her closely, he saw their icy depths break only for a moment. Perhaps Sansa was not as indifferent as she seemed. As she walked away with her ladies in waiting shadowing her steps, Tyrion let out a heavy sigh.

“She has been this way since her return from the Vale. Do not think it a mask put on for your benefit.”

“What happened to her?”

Of course, Jon heard rumors of her time in King’s Landing. Everyone had. Yet no one knew what happened to Ned Stark’s last remaining child in the mountains of the Vale. She refused to speak of it and no one else knew enough to tell.

“None of us are the people we were before the war,” Tyrion said, drinking his wine.

Jon turned to look at the older man, considering him carefully. He might have counted him a friend before the war began but it was because of his family that Sansa was the last surviving Stark. And still, Tyrion would take that from her by forcing the people of Winterfell to call her Lady Lannister, as if the lions had not stolen enough from her. Seeing him sit in the ancient seat of the Starks did not sit well with Jon. It was meant for great men, not the likes of Tyrion Lannister, a man who had seen more whores than half of the men in Westeros. Jon only hoped that he did not bring them within the walls of Winterfell. It would not only be an insult to the memory of better lords, but to Sansa as well.

“I am tired as well, my prince. Shall we meet tomorrow to discuss the wildlings?” Tyrion asked, already slipping out of his chair.

Jon nodded, saying nothing as he watched the last remaining Lannister walk out of the room. When a servant rose to escort him to his rooms, it did not take Jon long to realize that he was being taken to his old chambers. It made him feel slightly warmer inside, knowing that Tyrion couldn’t have possibly known where they were. It meant that Sansa must have had them prepared for him. When he opened the door, a fire roared away in the hearth and a figure sat before it. He should have expected her to be there, but her presence still took him by surprise. Sansa did not even look at him, staring into the flames with an intensity that he did not think possible from the girl whose head had been so full of songs and stories. He stepped inside, closing and latching the door behind him. Sansa still did not acknowledge him, simply waiting for something. Jon walked around her chair, sitting in the other as he stared at her without breaking.

“The wildlings like my hair,” she finally said, breaking the silence.

Jon looked at the locks, silky and fine where they curled around her shoulders. She had changed out of the woolen dress that she wore before, now wearing a dark grey velvet dressing gown that contrasted with her skin and hair perfectly. She looked every inch a lady, just as her mother had before her.

“They think it’s lucky,” Jon said, offering the knowledge that he had about the free folk. “They say it’s kissed by fire.”

Sansa reached up to curl one lock of hair around her finger, glancing over at him.

“Perhaps fire was the answer all along,” she said, quite clearly referring to his rebirth amongst the flames.

Jon nodded, refusing to break away from her gaze no matter how much it disconcerted him. As he watched, the ice in her eyes slowly chipped away until he realized that they were filled with tears.

“I hate him so much, Jon,” Sansa said in a quiet voice, turning to look into the fire as if she could barely stomach her own words. “I hate him as much as the rest of his family. I was a child when we married and still, he insisted upon having me as a wife after everything. He wanted Winterfell and the dragon queen gave it to him through me. I _hate_ him.”

He could hear the fury in her voice and it quickly rose in his own heart. Tyrion Lannister had no right to Sansa or her home. _Winterfell belongs to Sansa,_ he told Stannis Baratheon once. It still belonged to her. It should have been her sitting in the ancient seat, not the lion, with Robb’s crown perched upon her fire-kissed hair.

“I do not give him my heart, or my body. He will never have me truly,” Sansa said vehemently, tears sliding down her porcelain cheeks.

“What do you want me to do?” Jon found himself asking.

He leaned forward, taking her hand in his. Sansa turned to look at him once more, her cold fingers tangling with his as she squeezed his hand tightly.

“Kill him.”

Jon nearly refused. He felt the need to remind her that Tyrion was an advisor to Daenerys during the war, that she would have his head if he killed the Lannister man. Yet he knew that it wasn't quite the truth. As much as he hated to think it, he knew that his aunt would hardly care. She likely sent Tyrion north in the hopes that he would die in the cold after he nearly bungled the entire war for her in underestimating how far Cersei would go to secure the throne for herself. He knew the queen to be a good person but when she had no use for a person, Daenerys did not truly care what happened to them. That was how he found himself slipping into rooms of the Lord of Winterfell, a dagger clutched in his hand. Tyrion did not sleep. He stood by a window with a cup of wine in his hand as if he had been waiting for Jon.

“I wonder that it took you this long.”

Jon did not falter in his steps, his mind quite made up.

“Did she seduce you?" Tyrion asked, glancing over at him. "Did she open her legs for you so that you would end my life?”

“Sansa is not like your sister,” Jon said simply, advancing on him.

“Then how did she convince you, if not with sex?”

He had him against the wall with the dagger pressed to his throat in an instant.

“She only had to ask.”

He showed the lion mercy and ended his life quickly. As Tyrion lay on the floor in a pool of own blood, Jon felt eyes upon him and looked over his shoulder to see Sansa standing in the doorway. She was no longer carved out of ice, her eyes showing exhausted yet gratified satisfaction. There was a small, peaceful smile on her face as she watched the blood of a Lannister finally spill within the walls of Winterfell, as it should have so long ago.

“Will you stay with me?” Sansa asked, looking up at Jon with pleading eyes.

He could not deny her, even now that he had killed for her. Jon took her hand, allowing her to lead him away. Tyrion was sent away from Winterfell, taken south with the silent sisters to be interred in Casterly Rock with the rest of his family. Sansa refused to allow him to be buried with the Starks. As they lay in bed, Jon stroked his fingers over her bare back while she scribbled a note out on a piece of parchment, blowing carefully on the words before tossing it away to press a warm kiss to his lips. She was far from indifferent as she twined her body around him. Sansa Stark could never be so cold for so long. It only took a dragon to thaw her frozen heart. When the raven carried the message to King’s Landing, the Dragon Queen read the words, understanding immediately that she would not be seeing her nephew again for quite some time, if ever again.

_The North has claimed him._


	23. Modern AU - Sansa learns to fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon teaching Sansa how to fight.

Sansa stepped up to the door hesitantly, her hand hovering over it for several moments before she knocked. When it opened, she took a deep breath at the sight of her new teacher.

“Come in,” Jon said, quiet yet welcoming as he stepped aside.

She walked into his apartment, noticing that a significant amount of space had been cleared in preparation for her lessons.

“Thank you for doing this, Jon,” Sansa said, setting her purse down.

He let out a murmur of acknowledgment, watching as she pulled off her jacket to reveal yoga pants and a slightly baggy t-shirt.

“You need to stretch out first. Do you know how to do that?” he asked.

“I do yoga sometimes,” Sansa shrugged.

“Do some stretches from that. Trust me, you don’t want to pull a muscle.”

Sansa sat on the floor and began stretching out as he did the same, mirroring her movements. She didn’t watch him, choosing to glance around the room. On the coffee table that was pushed against the wall, his agency gun and FBI badge sat together. Sansa swallowed hard, ducking her head as she bent into a stretch for her hamstrings.

“Are you going to tell me why we’re doing this yet?” Jon asked.

She lifted her head, looking at him with a wary expression.

“Do I have to?” she asked in a small voice.

Jon looked at her sadly, shaking his head.

“I would never make you do anything, Sansa. But if Robb finds out, he’s probably going to want to know why I’m teaching his little sister how to fight.”

Sansa straightened up, putting her hands on her hips.

“I’m not little anymore, Jon. And weren’t you the one who said that every woman should know how to protect herself?” she reminded him.

“I said that four years ago when Arya wanted me to teach her how to punch properly. You, if I recall, thought it was ridiculous. Something has changed. I’m not going to push you into talking about it but I just want to make sure that you’re all right. Are you?” Jon replied, stretching his arms over his head.

Sansa sighed, her shoulders slumping a bit.

“Thank you, Jon. I really do appreciate this,” she said, avoiding answering his question.

He noticed but didn’t say anything as she stretched her back. Once they were finished warming their muscles up, he nodded at her shirt.

“Do you have a sports bra underneath that?” Jon questioned.

Sansa nodded, wondering why he was asking.

“Take the shirt off. This will be easier without anything loose in the way,” he said before stripping his shirt over his head.

Sansa stared at his bare torso for several moments, biting her lip at the lean yet defined muscles that she saw. She knew that being an FBI agent meant that he had to be in great shape but she hadn't imagined anything like this. When her eyes lifted, she saw that he was staring at her expectantly. She mumbled out an apology, lifting her shirt over her head with flushed cheeks. Jon’s eyes found the yellowing bruise on her ribs immediately and his eyebrows flew up as his eyes flashing with anger.

“Sansa…”

“Don’t ask, Jon. Please,” she said, a pleading tone in her voice.

He quieted, nodding once before gesturing for her to stand with him. Sansa could have hugged him for that. Anyone else would have pushed and pushed until she broke. Jon knew well enough to leave her be.

“You need to learn to control your body first. Since you do yoga, it’ll be easier for you to figure it out. Before you do anything, you need to know your limits,” Jon said, walking around to stand behind her. “The best way to start is just breathing. Close your eyes.”

Sansa hesitated before doing as he said, silently repeating to herself that she could trust him. Jon’s hand pressed over her stomach just above her navel, making her gasp lightly. She kept her eyes closed as he pressed into her abdomen without touching the bruise on her ribs.

“Breathe slowly from here, in through your nose and out through your mouth,” he said in her ear.

She took a deep breath, feeling his hand press in closer.

“Let your body relax, one part at a time. Your face, your neck, your shoulders, and on down,” Jon murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

Sansa shivered before letting the tension drain from her muscles one by one as she breathed in and out.

“Good,” he praised, pulling her hand up to fit over his. “You can do this at home every morning and night for ten minutes. It will do wonders for your stress levels.”

“How do you know I have stress levels?” she questioned.

Jon let out a chuckle.

“I’ve known you since you were five, Sansa. You put far too much on your own shoulders. It would be a miracle if you weren’t stressed.”

She flushed, a small smile lifting the corners of her lips.

“You’re one to talk. You brood more than anyone I’ve ever known," Sansa countered.

“I don’t brood. I think.” Jon corrected her, traces of a smile in his own voice.

Sansa simply smiled wider, feeling a curious ache of disappointment when he stepped away.

“Now for the fun part?” she asked.

He let out a short laugh, nodding his head.

“The fun part,” Jon agreed. “The one thing you have to remember is the places that will hurt someone the most.”

Sansa’s eyes flickered down to his groin and he laughed once more, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“That’s definitely one of them,” he confirmed, lifting her hands in front of her. “Make fists.”

She curled her hands into fists and he positioned them.

“Never tuck your thumb,” Jon instructed.

Sansa nodded, committing his words to her memory.

“From neck up is most vulnerable. Throat, nose, eyes.”

“Throat, nose, eyes,” she repeated.

He nodded at her, fixing her stance as he walked around her.

“When you hit someone in the nose, you want to thrust upwards with the heel of your hand. That gives you the best chance to break it. Like this.”

Jon flipped her hand and pressed it against his face, showing her the right spot to hit.

“If they grab you from behind,” he said, turning her around as he wrapped an arm around her throat loosely. “Hit them with your elbow.”

He guided her elbow back and into his nose.

“Or you can hit their throat,” Jon said, lowering it to press against his windpipe.

Sansa nodded, allowing him to turn her around once more.

“If you go for the eyes, remember that your fingers and knuckles will hurt the most and blind them at least long enough for you to get away. Jab them here,” Jon said, gesturing at his eyes.

“Got it,” she said, feeling like she was understanding everything he said.

Jon reached out and took her wrist in his.

“If someone tries to pull you in like this, use your body weight against them. You don’t have much but if you fake them out, stay still for a few moments so that they think you won’t fight. They'll relax too and think they’ve got you. That’s when you pull away,” Jon nodded at her and she leaned away from him. “And kick the flat of your foot into their knee.”

She lifted her foot, turning to the side as she pressed the bottom of her shoe into his knee to get a feel for the position without trying to hurt him.

“It will hurt a hell of a lot and throw them off balance. That’s when you run.”

“A lot of this ends in running.” Sansa sighed as he released her.

“You don’t need to know how to kill someone, Sansa. You need to know how to get away,” Jon replied, his voice somewhat stern.

She didn’t say anything, stepping away from him.

“I trust that you don’t need me to teach you how to kick someone in the groin?” Jon asked, his lips quirking upwards.

Sansa smiled in spite of herself.

“I think I’ve got that one down.”

“Good. Now,” Jon lifted his hands, facing his palms towards her as his arms stretched out. “Punch my hands as hard as you can. You need to get used to what it’s like to hit flesh and bone.”

Sansa lifted her hands, forming them into fists.

“Alternate hands. Your instinct is going to be to use your dominant side but you need to learn with both in case one hand is compromised.”

She nodded, driving her fist into his hand.

“Harder. Bone is more resilient than you think.”

Sansa hit him harder but he was not satisfied. As he told her to give him more, she huffed and slammed her fist into his hand, gritting her teeth at the sting in her knuckles.

“Good. Hit that hard every time,” Jon said, nodding at her.

She was tempted to tell him that it hurt to do that but knew better. This wasn't about being comfortable. This was about learning to protect herself. Sansa asked him for this and knew that it wouldn’t be easy. Jon didn’t have to help her but he was, and without pushing her to answer his questions. She continued to hit with each hand, knowing that her knuckles would likely be bruised the next day. When he finally drew his hands away, she sighed with relief and dropped her arms as her muscles burned.

“You did good, Sansa,” Jon said, laying his hand gently on her shoulder.

She looked up at him, feeling a wave of gratitude.

“Thank you, Jon.”

He reached down, picking up her shirt to hand it over to her.

“Do you want to stay here for a while? I was going to order Chinese and watch something,” Jon said as she pulled the shirt over her head.

Sansa smiled at him, realizing that his plan sounded like the greatest idea she’d heard in a long time.

“I would like that a lot.”

As Jon pushed his couches back to their original place, Sansa looked through one of his take out menus to see what she wanted, trying to keep her eyes off of his still bare torso. When she wrote down her order, Jon walked over to take it from her, grabbing his phone off of the coffee table.

“Sansa?” he said, glancing over at her.

She looked at him, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“The guy who gave you that bruise—” he began.

“He’s gone,” Sansa cut him off, knowing that he would ask again sooner or later. “I just don’t want to be helpless in case he comes back.”

Jon nodded, dialing the number on his phone.

“If he does, kick his ass,” he said with a smile.

She grinned at him, nodding in agreement.

*****

Jon was out of his car as soon as he pulled the keys from the ignition, running across the street towards the apartment building. There were flashing lights all around and a police barrier to keep interested bystanders away. An ambulance pulled away just as he pushed his way to the front. An officer stepped up to stop him but Jon flashed his badge and ducked beneath the barrier.

“What the hell is the FBI doing here?” the policeman asked. shadowing his steps.

“I’m involved,” Jon said simply, heading for the door as he thought of the call that he got.

Sansa’s name flashed on his phone and he expected her to be telling him the plans for their next date, not letting out a muffled sob.

_He came back._

That was all she had to say to get his ass into gear.

“What happened here?” Jon asked, glancing around at the cop.

“Guy broke into his ex-girlfriend’s apartment with a knife. There was an ass-kicking, let me tell you,” the officer said, leading him up the stairs.

Jon looked over at him with wide eyes.

“Is she all right?” he asked with his heart in his throat.

“The girl?" the officer said before letting out a bark of laughter. "Oh yeah. I bet she’s feeling like a badass just about now. I’ve never, in fifteen years of being a cop, seen a domestic violence case end this way. That guy is messed up.”

Jon felt immense relief as he pushed his way into the apartment. Sansa leaped off of the couch as soon as she saw him, surprising Robb and Arya who were sitting with her as she threw herself into his arms. He caught her easily, burying his face in her hair as his heart slowed to a normal pace now that he held her close.

“Are you all right?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her temple before pulling away.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Sansa nodded, looking back at him without flinching.

She had a red mark on her cheek and a small cut on her forehead but other than that, she looked unhurt.

“I heard you put him in an ambulance. Did you use what I taught you?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

Sansa frowned as Robb stood up, confusion on his face.

“Taught her?” he asked.

“Jon was teaching me self defense,” Sansa said, looking at the floor.

Jon looked at her with concern.

“Sansa?” he questioned, wondering why she looked so ashamed.

“I... might have hit him with a frying pan a few times after kicking him in the groin,” she admitted, worrying her teeth at her bottom lip.

He stared at her for a few moments before laughing out loud and pulling her in for a kiss. Sansa smiled up at him once they broke apart, her cheeks flushed and her eyes shining.

“I’m proud of you,” Jon assured her.

She leaned in, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as their arms wound around one another.

“I'm proud of me too."


	24. Modern AU - Sansa and Arya argue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Arya fighting and Jon getting caught in between but is clueless on what to do cause while he has always treated Arya like a sister, he's also Sansa's husband/ boyfriend now.

Jon wasn’t certain how he found himself in this situation but here he was, facing down the two most important females in his life. Sansa and Arya were facing him with matching ‘defend me’ looks and Jon was torn. On the one hand, Arya had been like a little sister to him since she was a toddler. He always felt the need to defend her against anyone who challenged her, even if she didn't always need it. But this situation was different, mostly because of the small diamond ring that sat on Sansa’s left hand. She was his fiancé and she clearly wanted him to take her side.

“Jon?” Sansa said, raising her eyebrows at him.

He wished for nothing more than a hole to swallow him up or maybe for Robb to come along and rescue him. His best friend always seemed to know what to say to calm Sansa and Arya down after years of dealing with them, whereas Jon had no idea. The best chance that he had was to bring them to some sort of compromise. Though that would be difficult considering that throughout their high-pitched explanation of what they were arguing about, he’d been praying for someone else to come along and save him rather than listening to them. So he had no idea what they were fighting about.

“Well, it seems like you both feel pretty strongly about this,” he said, clasping his hands together in front of him. “Maybe just try taking it down a level, get some deep breaths in... then sit down and talk about it. I’ll bring you both a glass of lemonade or tequila and you two can work out this… thing.”

Jon stammered over his words but felt proud when he finally got it all out. However, as Sansa and Arya narrowed their eyes at him, looking frighteningly similar when they did that, Jon knew that he'd fucked up somehow.

“Thing?” Sansa said, her voice low and dangerous now.

“Were you even listening to us?” Arya demanded.

Jon couldn't help but grimace. As they exchanged an annoyed look, he realized that he unintentionally gave them something to ally against, causing them to forget their argument. The only problem was that he was now the focus of their anger.

“Not… particularly."

They both seized pillows off of the couch in an instant, launching at him in a scarily effective attack. Jon was unable to escape before they were both hitting him with the pillows. He tried to fend off the blows but they managed to knock him down to his back. When he heard their laughter ringing through the air, Jon couldn’t help but smile despite the fact that he was still being beaten up by two women with pillows. He reached up and grasped Sansa’s wrist and Arya’s arm, dragging them down with him. His fiancé let out a cry of shock as she fell against his chest before giggling as Arya punched his arm from where she sat. Jon grinned at them as they laughed together, glad to know that he could at least do something to help them, even though it came at personal cost to him.


	25. Canon AU - Fairy Tale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon/Sansa fairytale AU- sleeping beauty

They pinned all of their hopes on the golden prince, desperate for him to remove the witch’s curse. Sansa laid unmoving amongst the furs of her bed as she had for months, her fiery waves spread out on the pillows and her hands clasped over her heart, a blue winter rose laid gently in them. The Baratheon boy rode through the gates of Winterfell with a retinue of guards and a look of pride on his face that he was the chosen one to release the winter princess from her sleep. When he was allowed into her chambers, everyone stepped aside to let him through.

“Fear not, Your Graces,” Joffrey said to the king and queen of the North, a smirk on his face as he spoke the appropriate lines. “I will bestow true love’s kiss upon your daughter and free her from this terrible curse.”

Robb fought back a scoff at his words as Catelyn and Ned exchanged doubtful looks. In the corner, Sansa’s orphaned cousin watched silently as the prince approached the bed. When he bent over her and pressed a long kiss to her perfect pink lips, everyone held their breath in anticipation. Once Joffrey drew away, they leaned forward expectantly, waiting for her to open her bright blue eyes and grace them all with a beautiful smile. Yet she slept on, showing no sign of waking. Anger flitted over the prince’s face as he stepped away.

“Why does she not wake?” he demanded, glancing around as if someone would have the answer.

“It looks like you’re not her true love, Your Highness,” Arya said, smirking at him as she ignored her mother's admonishing look.

He gave them all a furious glare before turning to stomp out, leaving the people in the room to whisper and speculate about why it did not work. Sansa was meant to marry the future King of the Storm Lands. Who did she love, if not him?

“Let us rest,” Ned said solemnly, looking upon his beautiful daughter with sorrow. “We will try something else tomorrow.”

The people slowly walked out of the room, leaving the bedchamber nearly empty. Only one soul, other than the princess, remained behind. Jon stepped out of the shadows quietly, approaching the bed with hesitation in every step. As sat on the edge of the mattress, he reached out to carefully take her cold hand in his.

“I know that you do not likely share such feelings for me, but I have loved you deeply since I knew you," Jon murmured quietly, brushing his thumb back and forth over her knuckles. "You are the most beautiful maiden in the seven kingdoms, and your heart is as lovely as your smile. I wish that my kiss could awaken you if only such miracles existed. Please, Sansa, do not yet give up. We will find the answer and release you from this long sleep.”

He bent over her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. As he did so, her skin seemed to grow warm beneath his lips. Jon grew away quickly, his eyes growing wide as her eyelids fluttered and opened. Sansa looked up at him with a dazed expression at first before a smile formed on her face.

“Oh Jon,” she breathed, pushing herself up to sit.

Jon was certain that his expression was quite stunned as she reached up to stroke his cheek with soft fingertips.

“Did you truly mean what you said?” Sansa asked, tilting her head to the side.

He realized that she must have heard him speak, even in her sleep. The thought made his cheeks grow warm, though he knew he would not lie to her.

“I meant every word," he said with a nod.

She leaned in, pressing her lips to his lightly. When Sansa pulled away, she brushed her thumb over his lower lip.

“That is all that I ever wanted to hear from you, my love.”

Even the wide smile that broke across his face did little to show her the real joy that formed within him at her words. Jon pulled her close and kissed her deeply. Sansa let out a delighted laugh, throwing her arms around his neck to embrace him. He repeated his love for her again and again, making her cry tears of unadulterated happiness as she whispered it back. Thus the spell was broken, and the princess lived happily ever after with the love of her life.


	26. Canon AU - Ygritte's POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unrequited love (Ygritte)

She avoided the place for as long as she could. Yet when Tormund informed her that they were invited to Winterfell for a feast to celebrate the unification of the free folk and the kneelers, Ygritte knew that she could not refuse. Jon did all that he could for her people, ensuring them lands and supplies aplenty from his silver-haired aunt. A few moons back, they had been invited to a different sort of celebration and Ygritte did manage to avoid that one. The as-yet unmarried kneeler queen returned to her home and everyone in the North rejoiced in her presence. Even the free folk were not unaffected by her. Stories of the young woman who wore her brother’s crown with eyes as cold as the winter winds and a face carved of ice quickly spread through the towns.

Ygritte only had to repeat the stories that she heard one time as Tormund laughed and laughed at whatever amusement he found in her words. As soon as they arrived in Winterfell, she understood why. They were ushered into a noisy feast once they were able to wash up. The hall was full with wine and food being passed around yet neither the queen nor her cousin was present. Before she could say one taunting word about the precious kneeler, Ygritte looked upon Jon Snow for the first time in years and she hardly recognized him.

He entered the Great Hall to raucous cheers from her fellow free folk and the even the kneelers of the North. He was in far richer clothing than she’d ever seen him wear. It wasn’t obvious because he was still mostly dressed in black, though his cloak was dark grey. His hair was much the same and his beard was neatly cut. Ygritte's eyes flitted to the woman at his side, dressed in a gown of pretty blue silk with her hand resting delicately on Jon's arm. They were both smiling and that was when she noticed that the real difference was Jon's eyes. She could even see it from where she stood against the wall, mostly hidden by shadows.

When they were together beyond the Wall, he looked like he wanted to be happy, like he wanted to stay with her and steal her. But there was always an underlying guilt there. Ygritte didn’t know if it was the fact that he was breaking his vows or betraying his brothers. Here and now, there was nothing like that in his eyes as he grinned. His eyes crinkled at the corners, just as she remembered. His smile lit his cheeks up. And it was all for her, the red wolf. One look at her told Ygritte everything that she needed to know. This was not the ice queen that she heard rumors of, she was not even close. Sansa Stark made the rounds of the room with bright eyes, her hand still tucked in the crook of Jon’s arm. He did not look all that unwilling to be dragged along behind her, greeting the people of the North with a warm smile.

Ygritte ensured that she was not seen, watching as the musicians began playing. It took no time for the winter queen to be dragged onto the floor by one man after another, occasionally claimed by a free folk man or someone that Ygritte didn't care to recognize. When Jon claimed her hand, they could have been the only two in the large room for all the attention they were paying to their surroundings. He spun her around the floor, making her musical laugh even reach Ygritte’s ears. When they finally parted and the queen stumbled away, waving off any more partners, a servant handed her a cup of wine and Ygritte finally walked forward, wondering if someone would stop her from reaching the young woman’s side.

“I thought you kneeler queen’s wore crowns.”

Sansa turned her head, her blue eyes widening with surprise. She took her in, her mouth forming a small ‘o’ as she realized who she was without having to ask.

“A queen doesn’t need a crown to be a queen. And I haven’t kneeled in years,” Sansa said, holding out her cup to be filled once more.

Ygritte raised an eyebrow at her.

“And does a queen need a kneeler king?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

Sansa’s eyes flickered to Jon where he was talking with the fat maester crow, Samwell. As if he felt her eyes on him, he turned to look at her, his eyes growing wide as he glanced between the two fire-kissed woman.

“Did you come to steal him?” Sansa asked, sounding uncertain.

Ygritte let out a bitter laugh, watching as Jon walked over to them as quickly as his legs could carry him. Sansa stepped away from her, reaching out towards a nearby man before he could reach them. The kneeler man obliged with her wordless request, leading her away just as Jon reached Ygritte's side. He stared after Sansa as she looked upon him, seeing all the differences up close.

“You are a different man.”

“And you’re a different woman,” Jon replied, looking down at his feet.

Ygritte stared at his profile, trying to figure him out. It was like seeing a stranger before her.

“Your queen doesn’t like me much,” she informed him.

Jon frowned, glancing up at her.

“What makes you think she’s mine?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

Now that _was_ familiar. Ygritte rolled her eyes, resisting the urge to drive her heel into his foot.

“She thinks I’m going to steal you. I don’t think she realizes that you’re already well and truly stolen.”

Jon shook his head at her.

“Sansa doesn’t… she is happy the way she is right now. The way that we are right now.”

Ygritte refused to let her emotions show as she stepped away from him.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” she said, her voice almost sad. “Go to your queen.”

With that, she turned away and walked towards the door. Yet she found herself hesitating before she left, chancing one last look in time to see Sansa holding her hand out to Jon as he approached her, their smiles all the brighter.


	27. Modern AU - Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "are you fucking kidding me?"

They fought, of course. After their last conversation, Jon wasn’t too surprised when their words quickly turned to daggers aimed at one another. Meant to cut deep. It was not easy to get him to talk but, for some reason, he couldn’t stop talking around Sansa. She stirred up the passion within him until it was spilling out, whether he was happy or angry. In this instance, neither of them were ready or calm enough to speak like adults to one another, both bringing up petulant arguments one after another. When he turned to walk off of the roof, the only spot where they were able to get a few moments alone, Sansa did not say a word to bring him back. It was only when he tried the door and it didn’t work that he heard her voice.

“Are you kidding me?”

Jon winced at the fury in her words. He tried the door handle again, hoping that it would open this time. He rattled the door several times, quite uselessly, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Sansa yelled.

He turned around with a raised eyebrow only to see that her arms were crossed tight over her chest as she alternating between glaring at the door and glaring at him.

“I didn’t know that the door would have an automatic lock,” Jon said defensively.

“Of course the door has an automatic lock, Jon. It’s just my luck to be stuck on a roof with you.”

He frowned at her, crossing his arms over his chest as well

“Is it that horrible for you?” he shot back.

Sansa scowled at him, looking as if she would set him on fire with the blaze in her eyes if she could.

“Yes, Jon. It is that horrible to be stuck up here behind a locked door with the person who humiliated me,” she said coldly, turning away from him to walk to the edge of the roof.

Jon felt frozen to the spot as she looked out at the skyline of the city yet when she shivered, he found the will to move, pulling off his suit jacket as he walked over to her

“I don’t want your help,” Sansa hissed as he laid it over her shoulders.

“You’re cold. Stop being so stubborn.”

For just a moment, Jon wondered if she might throw the jacket off the roof. But then she huffed and slipped her arms through the sleeves. Her dress was almost completely swallowed by his jacket. Jon was not a fool, he knew that she’d worn the dress to the charity benefit for a reason, to make him watch as she flirted with every other man in the room while her long, beautiful legs were on show for all to see.

“You didn’t give me a chance to answer you,” he said in a quiet voice.

Sansa looked over at him, disbelief clear in her expression.

“I gave you long enough, Jon. You stayed quiet for a full three minutes," she said angrily, turning away from him. "I say that I love you, and you don’t say anything. _Nothing._ Something like that tells a girl all she needs to know.”

“I _think_ I’m in love with you," Jon fired back. "That's what you said. You didn’t really sound too sure about it.”

She whirled around, her hair whipping about in the wind.

“You want me to be sure? Fine,” Sansa said, advancing on him. “I love you, Jon Snow. I love you so much that I feel an ache in my chest when you’re not around, when I can’t touch you or hold you or kiss you. When I see you, I feel like I can’t even breathe properly because the only thing that I’m certain of in this entire fucking world is the fact that I am in love with you!”

He stared at her with a stunned expression before stepping up to her. His hands cradled her cheeks, brushing the tears out of her eyes.

“If you had given me a chance, I would have said that I have never loved anyone in this world as much as I love you,” Jon said, pulling her in close as she let out a sob. “Sansa, you must know, you have to know, that I would do anything for you. My heart is, and always will be, yours. I will spend the rest of my life assuring you of my love, if you will allow it.”

Sansa shook her head, looking up at him.

“Why didn’t you say that before, you ridiculous man?” she demanded, tears slipping down her cheeks.

“Because I was coming to terms with the fact that someone as amazing as you could love someone like me.”

She looked up at him with an expression torn between heartbreak and overwhelming happiness.

“Of course I could love you, Jon. You are... the greatest thing that's ever happened to me,” Sansa sighed, pulling him in for a kiss.

He held her close, kissing her back desperately. It was impossible to know how long they stood there, entangled with one another with no regard for anything around them. Much less that they were still stuck on the roof. When the door wrenched open, they broke away and turned their heads to see quite the crowd standing there watching them.

“How did you know we were up here?” Sansa asked, pulling him towards her family.

“I think you were shouting loud enough for the entire city to hear you,” Robb said, smirking at them.

They both flushed, glancing at each other with small smiles as they descended the steps with the others. Suddenly, getting trapped on a roof together didn’t seem so bad.


	28. Modern AU - Doctor/Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is nurse and Jon is a doctor. Jon hasn't had a relationship since his ex girlfriend died. Sansa hasn't had a relationship since Joffrey. Jon is chasing her instead of her chasing him.

“Have you heard?”

Sansa glanced up as Margaery plopped herself in the chair across from her.

“Heard what?” she asked, finishing off her yogurt.

There was little else that she trusted in the hospital cafeteria without going across the street to her favorite café.

“There’s a new doctor,” her best friend and fellow nurse said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “He’s a trauma surgeon. Oh! Aren’t you a trauma nurse?”

Sansa narrowed her eyes at her.

“I know what you’re doing, Marg. It’s not going to work,” she said, rising from her chair.

“I’m doing nothing. I’m simply relaying information that I thought might be interesting to you. If there were a hot doctor joining the pediatrics rotation, I would trust that you would tell me. It’s what friends do,” Margaery said innocently, following Sansa.

“How do you know he’s hot?” Sansa said, throwing her container in the trashcan.

Margaery shrugged as they headed out of the cafeteria and towards the elevator.

“I saw him in the chief’s office. Come on, Sansa. You haven’t gone out with anyone since Joff and this guy is single.”

Sansa huffed, shaking her head.

“How do you know that he’s single?” she asked.

“I have a sense about these things. If you don’t go after him, I might,” Margaery challenged her, a grin on her face.

She rolled her eyes, looking over at her friend.

“You’re dating my brother,” she reminded her.

“Oh yeah,” Margaery said, shrugging her shoulders.

Sansa gave a roll of her eyes at her friend's antics.

“Listen, I know that you think my love life is pathetic and all that. But I really don’t need help. I will go out with someone when I choose and chances are, it’s probably not going to be your hot doctor,” she said as the elevator doors opened. "Doctors are the worst, remember?"

Her pager went off where it was clipped to her scrub pants before Margaery could answer.

“Shit,” Sansa cursed when she saw that there was a trauma in the emergency room. “I’ll see you later.”

She hauled off towards the emergency wing, pulling her hair up into a ponytail as she went.

“In there,” another nurse said, pointing at room three.

Sansa nodded her thanks before hurrying in, ready to handle anything.

“What happened?” she asked a first-year nurse.

The young woman was panicking over the patient, who clearly had a sucking chest wound.

“Car crash. I don’t know what caused it. I don’t… I’ve never done…”

Sansa sighed, batting her hands out of the way.

“I need gauze,” she said, pressing her hands over the wound once she snapped on gloves. “Did someone page a surgeon?”

“The new doctor is coming,” the new nurse confirmed.

Sansa nodded, packing gauze over the wound to keep air from getting in and any more blood from getting out. Looking down at the patient, she noted that he was unconscious. His lips and neck were blue and the veins were bulging in his throat.

“He has a collapsed lung! When is the doctor coming?” she demanded, knowing that she was not authorized to treat the patient without a doctor there.

“He’s here,” an unfamiliar voice came from behind her as the door opened.

Sansa barely paid attention as the man hurried around the table and began demanding information. She fired off what she knew and the others cut in when necessary. Sansa removed her hands to have someone else take over and set about getting a breathing tube ready.

“It won’t work. His trachea is swollen,” the doctor said, looking into his throat. “We need to do a tracheotomy.”

She yanked her bloody gloves off when the new nurse stood there with wide eyes, frozen as she looked at the man.

“Out,” Sansa commanded, gesturing to the door as she dug into the drawers.

The young woman obeyed her, hurrying out of the room. She might have felt bad for being so abrupt if the nurse wasn't just taking up valuable space in an emergency. Sansa handed a scalpel over to him and monitored the man’s vital signs as the doctor cut his throat and inserted a tub.

“It’s in.”

“His blood pressure and temperature are still dropping and his pulse is slow,” Sansa said, waiting for instructions.

“Let’s get him to an OR, see if we can stop this bleeding. I need a trauma scrub nurse.”

“Hi, right here,” she said, raising her hand.

He looked over at her and that was when she finally saw him as a man rather than a doctor. All that she could think was that Margaery was right. He _was_ hot.

“I’m Dr. Snow,” he said, reaching across the bed to shake her hand as they rolled it out.

“Sansa,” she said simply, taking it with a small smile.

“Nice to have you in my OR, Sansa," Dr. Snow nodded at her.

*****

She collapsed into a chair, pulling her scrub cap off to let her hair loose. The surgery ended up being six hours because of internal trauma that they hadn’t had time to check for with an MRI. Dr. Snow was at the large station desk near her, signing off on the chart to send the man to recovery. He glanced over at her as she did her best to braid her tangled hair over her shoulder.

“You did good in there,” he acknowledged, pulling his own scrub cap off to let his dark curls fall in his eyes.

Sansa smiled up at him as he brushed his hair out of his face, hating how much she wanted to know what it felt like.

“It wasn’t my first rodeo, doctor,” she replied.

“So I’ve heard,” he nodded, sitting next to her. “Your reputation precedes you.”

She raised her eyebrows at him.

“What does that mean?” Sansa questioned.

“I heard about a trauma nurse with balls of steel named Sansa Stark," the doctor said, sounding impressed. "You know, I think you missed your true calling. You should have been a doctor.”

She rolled her eyes, stretching her arms over her head.

“I think I’ll stick with bedpans and my balls of steel,” Sansa replied, smiling slightly as he laughed next to her.

“You really were great in there. I’m looking forward to working with you more,” he said, looking over at her.

Sansa turned her head, staring back at him.

“Dr. Snow—”

“Please, call me Jon.” he interrupted her.

Sansa raised her eyebrows and tilted her head to the side.

“ _Dr. Snow_ ,” she said insistently, reminding him of their professional relationship. “Are you flirting with me?”

He shrugged, smirking at her.

“I’m just appreciating your abilities,” he said innocently, his dark grey eyes sparkling with amusement.

“In the real world, we call that flirting and it’s inappropriate,” Sansa informed him, standing up. “I have six hours left on my shift. I’m going to go take a nap while there’s nothing going on.”

She turned away from him, walking towards the on-call rooms.

“I’ll see you later, then!” Jon called after her.

Sansa laughed, shaking her head as she waved goodbye over her shoulder. This new doctor was certainly going to be a challenge. But _dammit_ , he really was hot.

*****

“What is that?”

Sansa had been writing down her observations on a case when an arm reached around her and placed a styrofoam cup in front of her.

“It’s coffee. People drink it sometimes,” Jon answered, leaning against the wall casually as he sipped at his own cup.

She ignored how attractive he looked in his dark blue scrubs, with his white lab coat nowhere to be seen. His hair was as messy as ever, only tamed when he had it beneath a scrub cap in the operating room.

“Why did you bring me coffee?” Sansa questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.

He shrugged, looking amused as she glowered up at him.

“A little bird told me that you liked it with a lot of milk and three sugars,” Jon replied casually.

She huffed, turning away from him.

“I’m going to kill her,” Sansa said, vowing to find Margaery as soon as her shift was over.

Still, she wasn’t going to turn down a perfectly good cup of coffee. As she sipped at the sweet liquid, she ignored the triumphant look in the doctor’s eyes.

“What are we working on?” he asked, sitting next to her.

“ _I_ am working on my report for the knife wound case we had three days ago. _You_ are working on being annoying and inappropriate,” Sansa replied without looking up at him.

The rest of the hospital staff ignored them with ease, having grown used to their banter. He had been there for a month and they settled into this routine quite effortlessly, even using it in the OR as he operated and she stood at his side, always his preferred nurse. Still, Sansa was aware that she didn’t know everything about him, just as he didn’t know everything about her. Sometimes, when he wasn’t laughing at her sarcastic remarks, she caught a glint of sadness in his eyes and wondered what could have happened to put it there. Then she tore herself away from the thoughts, reminding herself that she could not get attached to this man.

“I met your brother when he came to pick up Margaery,” Jon informed her.

Sansa rolled her eyes, finally looking up at him.

“Let me guess, you got along swell."

“I did. We’re going for beers with a couple of other guys this weekend.” Jon said, grinning at her.

She sighed, closing her notebook before taking a long drink of her coffee.

“You can make nice with each and every one of my friends and family members, and I still won’t go out with you,” Sansa said, standing up.

“You say that now. I’ll get you one day, Stark,” he called after her.

“Goodbye, Dr. Snow.” she said, turning to wave at him.

*****

Sansa knew that it was too obvious that she was hiding. In a situation as humiliating as this, she should have known that Jon would find her. It was just her luck.

“What’s going on?” he asked, peering around as she pressed herself in closer to the wall.

She hesitated, glancing around the corner to see that the group of people was still standing in the middle of the hospital lobby.

“My ex is over there,” Sansa admitted, her cheeks coloring as his eyebrows rose.

“Joffrey Baratheon is your ex?” Jon questioned.

She nodded once, unsurprised that he’d heard about him. The pompous brain surgeon made it in every medical journal in the country when he established a new method of fixing aneurysms, never mind that Sansa spent the better part of two years pouring over other journals and research books to help him. All she got for her efforts was a goodbye email and a broken heart as he left Boston to go to Los Angeles for a better job. As far as she knew, he was now engaged to a world-class heart surgeon while all she had to go home to was Lady and a fridge full of leftover take out food.

“Why are you hiding again?” Jon said.

“I can’t face him. Not when he’s… and I’m… I just can’t.”

Sansa sighed heavily, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Do you still love him?”

She shook her head vehemently, certain that she did not.

“I don’t care except that he’s mean when he wants to be and I can’t stand being humiliated by him again; Not where I work. I would just go a different way but any path leads me right where he is—”

Sansa was cut off when Jon grabbed her hand and pulled her out.

“What are you doing?” she hissed.

He didn’t reply, pulling her into clear view of everyone in the lobby of the hospital. Jon turned, giving her no warning before his arm slid around her waist and his lips descended upon hers. Sansa gasped against his mouth, standing still for a moment before responding, dropping her purse on the ground as she wound her arms around his neck. He pulled her closer, nibbling at her lower lip and playing with the ends of her hair. Her mouth opened to him all too willingly and she let out a soft sigh when his tongue slid against hers. Her fingers yanked on his hair lightly and he groaned into her mouth before pulling away, making sure she was steady on her feet before pressing another soft kiss to her lips.

“I’ll see you later, Stark,” Jon said with a grin.

Sansa stared after him with a dazed expression, unable to remember the last time that she’d been kissed in such an all-consuming way. She reached down, swaying slightly on her feet as she picked up her purse where it fell. Sansa touched her lips as she walked out, not even sparing an open-mouthed Joffrey a glance as she held back the giddy laughter that rose in her throat.

*****

“Did you really make out with hot trauma guy in front of the entire hospital?” Margaery demanded as soon as she stepped into the building.

“He has a name, Marg. And it wasn’t in front of the _entire_ hospital. It was just in front of Joffrey,” Sansa answered, a dreamy smile on her face.

Her friend grinned at her, looping their arms together as she dragged her towards the locker room.

“I thought you didn’t like him,” Margaery reminded her.

“I never said I didn’t like him. I said I wouldn’t go out with him,” Sansa corrected her.

“And now?”

She shrugged, opening her locker to place her belongings in there.

“I don’t know. I guess I might have…” Sansa hesitated, glancing around.

“Might have?” Margaery pushed her.

She sighed, slamming her locker closed before leaning against it.

“I might have changed my mind,” Sansa said quietly.

Her friend squealed, yanking her into a hug.

“We’ll do a double date,” Margaery sang happily.

“Let us have a first date first,” Sansa said, pulling away from her with a warning look.

As she walked towards the nurse’s station, she saw Jon filling out charts.

“Hello, Dr. Snow,” she said, a smile on her face as she reached his side.

“Hey.” he replied, nodding curtly at her before walking away.

Sansa frowned as she stared after him, wondering what happened to make him treat her so coldly. Had she done something wrong? Was it a bad kiss and she didn't know it? Did Jon come to the conclusion that she just wasn't worth it? As the day went on, she realized that it was not just her. Jon was snapping at everyone, from fellow doctors to nurses and even a patient. When she had enough, Sansa gripped his arm and dragged him into a supply closet, slamming the door shut as he huffed and turned away from her, bracing his hands against the wall. His head was ducked and she couldn’t see his expression, but she didn't need to. She could speak as well to his back as she could to his face.

“What is going on with you today? Yesterday you were kissing me and flirting with me and today I might as well be gum on your shoe with how you’re treating me," Sansa said, seething on the spot. "And everyone else has noticed too. You’re this close to getting a complaint filed on you.”

Jon turned and she was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just…” he let out a sigh, leaning back against the wall.

He leaned over, bracing his elbows on his knees as his shoulders shook.

“Jon?” Sansa said, concern in her voice.

She walked to him, sliding her hand into his hair.

“Tell me what is going on. You can talk to me, you know that.”

He inhaled sharply, straightening up again.

“Three years ago on this day, my fiancé died. She was shot in a carjacking attempt and brought to my hospital. I was forbidden from operating on her because I was family," Jon said, his voice barely above a whisper as a tear traced a slow path down his cheek. "I watched in the gallery as she died on the table. I couldn’t do anything. This day is just… it’s not good for me.

“Oh Jon,” Sansa sighed, feeling her heart break for him.

She pulled him into an embrace, rubbing his back soothingly as he clutched at her.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Sansa whispered in his ear.

He shook his head, pulling away from her. Jon put his hand over her cheek.

“Can you forgive me for the way I’ve treated you?”

She nodded, brushing his tears away.

“Of course I can,” Sansa said, knowing that it wasn't even a question.

He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers gently. Sansa deepened the kiss after a few moments, realizing that this doctor had her well and truly trapped. After ensuring that he apologized to everyone that he’d snapped at, they went about their workday. When Sansa walked out of the hospital once her shift ended, she saw him leaning against the outside wall of the building in his casual clothes. Jon smiled at her, reaching his hand out. With a smile of her own, Sansa laced their fingers together as he led her to his car.


	29. Canon AU - first marriage fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first fight as a married couple

Her fingers curled into the arms of her chair as she stared into the fire, the contents of the letter still ringing in her mind.

“No,” Sansa finally said, her voice cold and hard.

Jon sighed where he sat at his writing desk.

“Sansa—"

She looked over at him with a pointed glare, hardly able to believe that he was asking this of her.

“You cannot ask this of me, Jon. Not this,” she hissed, rising abruptly from the chair.

Sansa felt his eyes on her as she crossed the room to pour herself a cup of wine. She did not offer him any, taking a long sip before refilling it.

“I am not asking, Sansa. The queen is commanding—”

“Unless she comes to Winterfell with her dragons to force me, I will not go back to that wretched place. I told you before we ever married, before you even proposed such a thing to me, that I would not step foot within King’s Landing or the Red Keep again,” she said vehemently, walking to the window.

Out in the yard Arya sparred with Rickon, teaching him everything that she knew. One day, Rickon would be the Lord of Winterfell. They all came together to ensure that he was prepared for it. He looked so like Robb that seeing his face brought an ache to her chest even now.

“If it were my choice, I would not have you there. You know that I am in a difficult position,” Jon said, standing as well.

He walked to Sansa, trying to reach out towards her. She flinched away from his touch, trying not to see the hurt that flashed across his face as she took another drink.

“You are the only one who knows, Jon," she said in a low, furious voice. "I told you what happened to me in that place and still you would take me back. You would shove me into that pit of vipers and expect me to smile and chirp my courtesies just as _they_ did before. You would have me kneel in the same spot where I was beaten and humiliated all so that you do not have to refuse your precious aunt.”

“I have no choice, Sansa. Our situation is precarious here. We have Winterfell because she allows it out of affection for me, her last remaining family. If we were to refuse her, she could easily take it away.”

They were the wrong words to say and he knew that even as he spoke them.

“We have Winterfell because it is ours, as the remaining Starks. It is not her right to take it away.”

“It is not her right but she still has the means. It would not do well to offend her,” Jon sighed, trying to get her to see sense.

Sansa stepped away from him, slamming her cup down on a table without caring that wine splashed over her hand.

“I will not go,” she said with an air of finality.

Jon stared after her as she moved towards the door to his solar.

“What will I tell her?” he called at her back.

“Whatever you please,” Sansa snapped over her shoulder. “Go to the damned celebration for all that I care. Just know that you will be going alone.”

The door slammed in her wake and Jon gritted his teeth, crumpling the letter in his hand as he leaned against the wall.

*****

Sansa was sitting before her looking glass when the soft knock came on the door. She nodded up at the maid, taking the brush out of her hands.

“You are dismissed,” she said when the maid allowed Jon into the room.

She curtsied to them both and left, shutting the door behind them. Sansa did not look at him, running the brush through her soft locks again and again. He walked up behind her, his hands curling over the back of the chair before he bent down.

“I have sent a response,” Jon said quietly, brushing her hair away from her neck to press a small kiss over her collarbone.

Sansa stiffened, wondering what he might have said.

“As much as we would like to be at the celebration for the end of her first year as queen, we are unable to make the journey as there are more pressing matters to be dealt with at Winterfell.”

She relaxed, setting down the brush as she met his eyes in the mirror. Sansa reached up, sliding her hand into his soft curls.

“What pressing matters are those, my lord?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I must attend to my lady wife, and my lady wife must attend to our household, as I am a poor lord in need of her guidance. The entire castle, nay, all of the North would utterly crumble without her clever and rather beautiful eyes overseeing it all. She is a truly astute woman with the ability to see and understand far more than her pathetic husband.”

Sansa fought back her smile, swatting at his shoulder as he grinned.

“What did you really tell her?” she asked.

“That we are very devoted to our duty as her heirs to producing an heir worthy of ruling over Westeros. And that your moon blood did not come this month.”

Sansa raised an eyebrow at him.

“I had my moon blood last week.”

“Is that so?” he asked, playing at ignorance.

Jon’s hands skimmed down her arms and she shivered at his touch.

“You made her believe that I might be with child, Jon. She will certainly see this as an affront when she realizes that there is no such child,” Sansa said, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Hmm,” Jon said, nuzzling into her neck. “Then perhaps we should try our best to remedy such a situation.”

She frowned at him through the mirror.

“And how are we possibly meant to fix your lie?” Sansa questioned.

Jon grinned at her before bending down to pull her into his arms. She shrieked, throwing her arm around his neck as he carried her to the bed. Her protests were cut off by his lips pressing over hers, coaxing her into a deep kiss before pulling away with a look of utter desire. Sansa huffed when he set her on the bed and crawled over her.

“I intend to lay with you this night and each night thereafter, to apologize for my behavior. Perhaps my seed will take root and we will have a babe before the year is out,” he said, trailing his lips over her jaw.

Sansa rolled her eyes, stroking his hair as she shook her head at the man that she loved.

“Well then,” she sighed, looking up at him as he drew away. “Perhaps we should get started.”


	30. Modern AU - College

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon mentally listing down everythint about Sansa

He watched her from a distance, knowing that there was no way that he could approach the beautiful girl who sat three rows in front of him in their western history class. Jon did not know when it started, his mental list about Sansa Stark. But somehow, it became something that was natural to him.

_1\. She chews on her lower lip when she’s concentrating._

Jon did not try to cross her path so many times. Their campus was not as large as most and it was simply bound to happen. He saw her in the library at least once a week, almost the only time he ever saw her alone. When she would read over thick texts or type her observations into her laptop, her full bottom lip was always caught between her teeth. Jon wondered why her lips weren’t perpetually chapped due to such a habit.

_4\. Her laugh is beautiful._

He heard it in a coffee shop one day, glancing up from his book to see her entering with a man. They were both smiling and she looped her arm through his as he ducked down to whisper something in her ear. She laughed again, tossing her head back as he looked at her with a smile, looking pleased that he could draw such a reaction out of her. They looked good together and he felt a dark tug at his chest. He didn’t like this guy, whoever he was.

_7\. She has a boyfriend._

Her best friend was free with her words. Jon heard them when he was early to class a few days after the coffee shop. He sat down and ducked his head over his phone, texting Sam that he would likely be late coming in that night because of a study group.

“When is Robb going home?” Margaery asked, perching on the table next to where she was setting up for class.

“He left yesterday,” Sansa sighed, looking sad.

“That’s too bad, I would have liked to spend more time with him,” the other girl said, her eyes sparkling.

Sansa glowered up at her, smacking her leg half-heartedly.

“That’s my brother you’re talking about,” Sansa said in an exhausted tone as if this was not the first time they'd had this discussion. “Anyway, I didn’t tell you what he told me in the café the other day…”

Jon didn’t hear the rest, smiling slightly as he sat up a little straighter in his chair.

_7\. She has ~~a boyfriend~~ a brother._

The first time she talked to him, it was to ask a question about their class. Sansa caught sight of him taking his morning run, her eyes widening in recognition. Jon was shocked that she could recognize him.

“Hey,” she said, looking at him apologetically as he stopped running and stared at her with a stunned expression.

“Yeah?” he breathed, his chest heaving from the several laps that he’d already done.

“You’re Jon, right? Professor Watkins? Western history?”

He nodded, dumbstruck as he heard her lovely voice pronouncing his name.

Sansa smiled at him, looking relieved.

“I wasn’t there the other day. Did we have homework?” she asked.

Jon stared at her for several moments before nodding once, swallowing hard.

“We were assigned reading. I’m sorry I don’t remember the exact pages,” he said apologetically, shifting from foot to foot nervously.

She waved him off, looking careless.

“Don’t worry about it. Do you mind texting me the assignment?” Sansa questioned, looking at him hopefully.

Jon found himself nodding once more.

“I don’t have your number,” he said, pointing out one problem with her plan.

She grinned at him, holding out her hand.

“I could call my phone from yours. It’s easiest that way.”

Jon was handing it over before he knew it and she smiled slightly as she dialed her number and let it ring all the way through.

“Thank you, Jon. You are a lifesaver,” Sansa informed him, handing the phone back over.

Her fingers brushed against his and she flushed slightly, leaning up to kiss his cheek before hurrying off in the direction of the parking lot. Jon stared after her for a long time, his skin tingling where her lips touched him.

_10\. Her skin is soft._

_11\. Her hair smells like roses._

Once he sent the text, he was impatient and jumpy. Sam watched him with amusement in his eyes as Jon fiddled with a pen, adjusted and readjusted the way he sat, sighed heavily and leaned his head on his hand, then on the back of the couch. When he stood to get a cup of water from the kitchen, the phone beeped once he was halfway across the room. He almost dove back towards the couch in his haste to get to it, tripping over his own feet and crashing into it. He didn’t care, looking at the screen of his phone with wide eyes.

**Thanks Jon! I really appreciate this! Repay you with coffee?**

_12\. She knows how to spell my name right._

Jon watched as she crossed the room with a smile on her face, looking beautiful in a light blue dress with her hair flowing around her shoulders. Sansa sat down across from him with ease and he could hardly believe that it was really happening.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

The words slipped out of his mouth.

“Do what?” Sansa asked, placing her purse over the back of her chair.

“Repay me. All that I did was send you a text.”

She smiled at him, leaning forward over the table. Her hand reached up and she brushed a stray curl away from his forehead.

“How else was I supposed to get you to come on a coffee date with me?” Sansa asked, her cheeks flushing as she spoke.

Jon gaped at her.

_16\. She takes her coffee with three sugars and a lot of milk._

_23\. She likes historical dramas._

_7\. She has ~~a boyfriend~~ ~~a brother~~ three brothers and a sister._

_45\. She likes to kiss… a lot._

_57\. She takes up most of the blankets in bed._

_66\. She sings in the shower._

_72\. She can’t whistle._

_94\. She said yes._

_100\. She is Sansa Snow now._


	31. Modern AU - Mutual Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery convinces Sansa to go on a double date with her fiance Robb and her older brother Willas Tyrell. Jon is on a date with Ygritte or Val at the same pub because Robb recommended it. Both Jon and Sansa get jealous of each other's dates.

Sansa knew that it was a bad idea to agree on a double date with Margaery and Robb. It was sad enough that she had to be set up with someone, but for it to be Margaery’s brother was even worse. It was a pity date and she was the poor girl who couldn’t manage to find someone in time. Okay, she didn’t look that hard but it was only because she thought she would be let off if she didn’t have a date. But her best friend was far too persistent for that and that was how Sansa ended up walking into a pub with her brother and best friend, who were engaged, and a man she’d never met before. Willas was perfectly nice, but this still felt humiliating and Sansa had no desire to be social that night. When she saw Jon at the bar with a tall, devastatingly attractive blonde, however, her entire demeanor towards Margaery’s brother changed. Sansa slipped her arm through his, leaning in close to him.

“Have you ever been here before?” she asked, ducking closer to him.

He leaned in as well, looking surprised but pleased to have her attention.

“No, I haven’t,” Willas answered as they followed Margaery and Robb through the crowd.

When Sansa realized that they were headed straight towards Jon and his date, her smile faltered. Robb drew Jon into a hug, thumping his back as they both grinned. When his dark grey eyes fell on her, her heartbeat stuttered and she clenched her hand over Willas’s arm.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” she said, breaking her eye contact with Jon.

“This is my sister,” Robb called, glancing over his shoulder at her just as she slipped by.

She cursed softly, turning back to face them.

“Hi,” Sansa said, putting on her sweetest smile. “I’m Sansa Stark.”

“Val,” Jon’s date replied politely, shaking her hand.

“It’s a pleasure, really. But I need to—”

“Shouldn’t you introduce your date, Sansa?” Margaery pushed her.

She cursed Margaery's name inwardly, her smile faltering for just a moment.

“Yes, Sansa. Introduce your date,” Robb said, looking all too amused.

She shot him a brief glare before turning to Willas.

“This is Willas Tyrell. Willas, Jon and Val,” Sansa said, gesturing to them.

As soon as they were finished shaking hands, she did not let anyone else distract her, turning to walk off. Sansa found a seat at an empty table and huffed as she sat in it, immediately ordering a tequila shot. It was going to take her a lot of alcohol to get through this night.

“They seem nice,” Willas said, sliding into a seat next to her.

“Mm-hm,” Sansa answered simply, glowering across the bar as Val put her hand on Jon’s shoulder and laughed at something he said.

He gave a smile. That stupid smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corner and his cheeks flush so attractively. Sansa shrugged the thoughts off quickly, hating that she couldn't stop thinking about him. When his eyes met hers, they grew slightly darker and he glanced at Willas before looking away.

“I didn’t think Jon would be here tonight. I only recommended the place to him yesterday,” Robb said, sitting down next to her

Sansa glared at her brother as the tequila shot came.

“Thanks, dear brother,” she hissed under her breath before tossing it back.

Robb laughed at her, knowing full well why she was so moody. As the night progressed, Sansa maintained control over her desire to get drunk as she saw glimpses of Val and Jon out of the corner of her eye. She kept her attention on Willas as much as she could, talking to him about anything and everything that didn’t matter in the slightest. When she glanced over at the bar and saw that they were gone, she felt sick to her stomach.

“I don’t feel very good,” Sansa said, relieved that she didn’t actually have to lie about it. “I think I’m going to head home.”

Margaery frowned at her.

“Do you want me to take you?” Willas asked.

“No, I’ll just catch a cab. Don’t stop on account of me,” Sansa said, rising to her feet as she pulled her purse over her shoulder.

She hurried through the crowd before anyone could stop her, cursing herself for treating Willas so poorly. She really owed him an apology, perhaps later when she wasn't so annoyed at everything that happened that night. When Sansa pushed the door open and stepped out into the night, she took a deep breath and walked towards the street so that she could hail a cab.

“Escaping already?”

Sansa whirled around to see him leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.

“I thought you left,” she said, frowning at him.

“Val left. I was waiting,” Jon said, pushing himself up to walk towards her.

She looked at him warily.

“Waiting on what?” Sansa questioned.

“For you to escape,” he said simply.

She huffed, shaking her head.

“I’m not escaping, Willas was a perfectly nice date and—”

“Willas barely held your attention for a minute at a time.” Jon cut her off, his eyes challenging her to say any differently.

She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Well I guess we can’t all have a tall, gorgeous model as our dates,” she snapped.

He smiled, reaching out to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“You’re jealous,” Jon said, stepping closer to her.

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously.

“So are you,” she accused him.

Jon sighed, cradling her face in his hands.

“Then why did it take us so long to get out here?” he asked before leaning down to press a kiss to her lips.

She couldn’t help but agree.


	32. Modern AU - Separation + Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa are set up and have nothing in common because she wants to go South and Jon is like the poster boy for the north, but years later she comes back and wants to go out with him again?

King’s Landing was supposed to be a brand new start, though she didn’t really need it. There was no traumatic childhood to get over or any suppressed memories to work through. Sansa just wanted a different life. She wanted excitement. She wanted to _thrive_. It was great at first, with a wealth of friends, parties, and fun to be had. Sansa had as much as much attention as she wanted. Men and women alike doted on her. They wanted to take her shopping or on dates. She was beautiful. She knew it and they knew it. Sansa relished in her new life for a time. But in the end, like with all things, the honeymoon ended. And when it ended, Sansa could not bear anything around her anymore. It all felt... cold.

It took her a long time to admit that everyone back home was right. Her mother and father warned her that King’s Landing would not be the paradise that she thought it may be. Robb told her that she would miss Winterfell a lot more than she was willing to admit. Arya told her that it was stupid to go. And Jon…he never said a word. He wouldn’t, it wasn’t like him. But his eyes said it all, those mournful grey eyes that pleaded with her to stay. Sansa didn’t stay, but then he knew that she wouldn’t. He knew it when they first kissed and he knew it when they made love for the first time. Jon didn’t begrudge her decision, but _gods_ did she wish that he had.

Now, more than anything, she wished that Jon would hate her for leaving him behind for such a horrible reason. Sansa did want him to come with her. She never begged him to, because it wasn’t like her. But she dropped hints. She told him about all the things that they could do together in the city. But she knew he would never come. It wasn’t like him. He was as northern as they came and he thrived there. Sansa could remember his last words as if they were yesterday, even though he whispered them in her ear a full two years ago.

_Let me know when you want to come home._

Sansa had shrugged it off, accepting his gentle goodbye kiss before climbing into her car. Of course she wouldn’t want to come home. She was going to start a brand new life and it would be wonderful. But it wasn’t wonderful and she wished that she hadn’t been so careless and naïve. Even when she was living the high life and enjoying everything around her, there were still reminders of what she left behind. She saw Jon everywhere, in the music that she heard on the radio when she turned it on in the morning, in the sunrise that she saw outside of her high rise on Blackwater Bay, in the small used bookstore near to her workplace where she stopped in every once in a while just to feel like he might be near her again.

When she grew disillusioned with the city, it was even worse. When she followed a man for three blocks because she thought he was Jon, Sansa knew what everyone had known two years ago. She never belonged here. She cried the whole way home, listening to songs from a stack of CDs she found hidden in her car’s trunk. The memory of Jon quietly humming along to the music as he held her hand and pressed soft kisses to her wrist went through her mind on repeat. She wondered if he thought of her, or if it was too late. She cried even harder at the thought, unable to keep the fear of a faceless woman kissing and loving Jon out of her mind. It took days but she finally made it to Winterfell. Everything looked the same. It made her heart ache fiercely as her fingers clench tight over the steering wheel.

Sansa didn’t go to her childhood home. She didn’t go to Robb’s house or Arya’s school. She drove straight to the apartment complex, remembering his little one-bedroom place like it hadn’t been two years since she was in there. Only when Sansa pulled into the parking lot did she panic, realizing that he may have moved by now. But this was all that she had and at least she could start here. Sansa climbed the steps on shaky legs, her hands trembling as she approached the door. The last number was still missing from the door pane and the bell was still broken. She knocked on it softly, half hoping that it wouldn’t be heard. Then, at least, she could escape with her dignity intact. Of course, it was heard and her heart pounded in her chest as she heard the chain being pulled out of the door.

As it opened inward, her heart skipped a beat and her mind went blank, all of her planned words disappearing at the sight of him. He looked just as he always did, his jeans slightly wrinkled, and his hair more than slightly messy. His eyes wide and grey and beautiful. His perfect lips parted in shock at the sight of her. Sansa felt tears gather in her eyes and realized that she’d cried more in the past few days than she had in her entire life. She felt them slipping down her cheeks as they stared at each other. Finally, she regained the ability to speak, though her voice was hoarse and terrible to her ears.

“I want to come home.”

Jon didn’t say a word. He just stepped forward and gathered her into his arms without a second thought, pressing his lips into her hair. Sansa let herself be surrounded by his warmth, burying her face in his shirt as she hiccupped out a sob.

“It’s about time,” Jon whispered in her ear.


	33. Canon AU - bastard!Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is a bastard and Jon is a trueborn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this is almost entirely smut

Jon let a groan rip out of his chest as she applied her teeth to his neck, smiling against his skin.

“Happy name day,” she whispered, unfastening his doublet with sure hands.

He fisted his hands in her auburn hair, lifting her head to kiss her deeply. Sansa shoved the rich material off of his shoulders, nipping at his lower lip before pulling away with a grin. Jon could easily see the heady look of desire in her eyes as she pulled his tunic over his head and smoothed her hands over his chest.

“Come receive your gift, my dragon,” Sansa said, stepping away from him.

He stayed where she left him, pressed against the door as he watched her slide up onto his bed. Sansa positioned herself against the pillows, pulling her skirts up her legs as she spread them slowly.

“I’m waiting,” she said alluringly, bending her legs at the knee to show him the auburn curls between her thighs.

Jon groaned again, realizing that she wore no smallclothes throughout his entire name day feast. He’d danced with her several times and watched as she laughed and conversed with the lords in the room, all while she was bare beneath her skirts. He staggered towards the bed, following her crooked finger as she grinned at him.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night,” she sighed as his hands traced a slow path up her legs.

“Then we should have ended the feast sooner,” Jon said in a low, rough voice.

He pulled her up to bestow a fierce kiss upon her lips before turning her around to unlace her gown. Sansa lifted her arms to allow him to pull it over her head, her shift following soon after to leave her bare. She started to turn back over but he stopped her, sitting back on his heels as he pulled her back against him. Sansa gasped, her head falling back on his shoulder as her legs splayed on either side of his thighs. His arousal pressed into her backside and she rubbed against him, a smirk forming on her face when he let out a muffled curse into her hair, pulling the pins out of it to let it flow freely over her shoulders.

“Now that you have me here, what do you plan to do with me?” Sansa breathed, turning her head to nibble at his ear.

Jon captured her lips in a kiss as his callused hands began roaming her soft skin. She whimpered into his mouth as one of his hands palmed at her breast, rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb.

“I plan to ravish you,” he said, nibbling at her throat. “I’m going to make you peak with my fingers and my mouth. Then I’m going to bury my cock in your sweet cunt and fuck you until you scream my name. Then, when you have recovered, I’m going to start all over again. I’m going to take you on every surface in this room until the sun rises and then I may even keep you after that.”

Sansa let out a desperate noise, reaching back to grip at his hair. She always grew even more aroused when he spoke this way. When Jon asked her why she came to him the first time they coupled, she answered with a smile on her lips and a shine in her eyes. _Bastards are born of passion, Jon,_ she’d answered, kissing her way up his chest. _Is it surprising to you that we find comfort and love in the arms of another?_

“Then get started, my love,” she said, tearing him out of his thoughts. “Or I may just have to ravish you instead.”

He grinned, reached down with his other hand. Sansa let out a sigh when he parted her folds, touching her gently as he gathered her wetness on his fingers.

“So wet for me, sweet girl.”

She nodded in agreement, her hips rolling as she wordlessly pleaded for more. Jon had half a mind to tug his breeches down and take her like this, but then would all be over far too soon and he planned to follow through on his promises. He brushed his fingers over her clit, making her gasp and moan as she tightened her grip on his hair.

“Careful, I like my hair and I happen to know that you do too. It will be of no use to anyone if you tear it all out.”

Sansa barely acted as though she heard him, reaching down to press his fingers to her more firmly. He slid one, then two, inside of her, using the heel of his hand to rub against her clit. Sansa let out short gasps and cries of his name without shame, her hand wrapping around his wrist as if to hold him in place. She knew his games far too well, that he liked to make it last, and sometimes tried to outmaneuver him. But he was still stronger than her. As she neared her peak, he withdrew his hand and broke her hold easily.

“Jon,” she whined, reaching towards her aching womanhood to finish herself off.

Jon caught her hand and pulled it away.

“Not now," he crooned in her ear. "Patience.”

“I hate you,” she groaned.

“No you don’t,” he said, grinning as he turned her over onto her back

Sansa pouted up at him but he ignored it, giving her a deep, lingering kiss before trailing his lips down her throat. When her hips lifted so that she could rub herself against the rough fabric of his breeches, he stopped her with a laugh, pinning her down to the bed. Sansa swatted at his shoulder but did not argue any further, allowing him his attentions. As his lips closed around her nipple, she sighed and arched towards him. Jon’s tongue teased the peak, circling and flicking over it as his thumb teased the other. He pulled his lips away from her, paying the other nipple the same attention before his mouth drifted down further.

She was trembling beneath him by the time he laid a gentle kiss between her thighs, desperate for more. Jon inhaled slowly before tracing his tongue along her folds, relishing every single moment of this. Sansa’s hands stroked through his hair and she rolled her hips against his mouth. He explored her slowly, avoiding the spot that he knew she wanted him to touch most. When he hesitated and moved away the tiniest bit, her fingers tightened in his hair.

“Don’t you dare stop or I will blacken your eye,” Sansa gasped out, near to the edge.

He smiled before setting his mouth upon her determinedly. She let out a cry of his name as his tongue traced her folds and flicked over her clit again and again. Jon’s grip on her hips was the only thing keeping her body on the bed. He licked and sucked at her enthusiastically, only pulling away right when he felt her muscles tense up.

“I am going to kill you!” she all but yelled, pulling his mouth back to her.

Jon laughed deep in his chest before focusing his attention on her clit, laving his tongue over the sweet spot again and again. A guttural moan tore its way out of her chest as she writhed beneath him, her peak overwhelming her. He did not stop, pressing kisses to her cunt until she slumped back onto the bed, boneless and sated. He looked up at her with satisfaction as she pressed her palm to her forehead, her chest heaving and her lips parted slightly.

“Forget your titles and lands. I think you found your true calling,” Sansa breathed, a slight smile gracing her face.

He let out a quiet laugh, gently biting at her thigh before kissing his way up her body.

“Do you need to rest?” Jon said, stroking his fingers over her ribs.

Sansa looked up at him with narrowed eyes, reaching between them to fit her hand over his arousal. Jon groaned and shuddered as she palmed him through his breeches.

“I’m quite recovered,” she said, hastily unlacing his breeches and smallclothes.

Jon leaned away, slipping off of the bed for a moment to take them off, tossing them across the room without care for where they landed. Before he could fall between her thighs once more, Sansa pushed him over onto his back and straddled his hips. Jon let his head fall back against the pillows as she rolled her hips and let his cock slide between her folds.

“Let me know if you need to take it slowly. You are getting old, after all,” she said, grinning down at him.

Any clever retort that he had died on his lips as she sank down on him. Jon’s hands went to her hips and he gripped them tightly, knowing well what she liked. He looked up at her with wonder as she tossed her head back and sighed at the feel of him deep within her. Others had tried to possess her before. To take her for themselves. She was the most beautiful woman in all of Westeros. In all of the world. Jon did not know how he got so lucky to that she chose him for her own, but he thanked the gods for it every day. Sansa began rocking against him in a slow rhythm, one hand gripping the headboard over his head. Her lower lip was caught between her teeth and her eyes fluttered closed as she rode him, her hips moving in a licentious yet delightful way. Jon reached up, brushing his fingers over her cheek softly.

“Look at me,” he said in a low voice.

Her eyes opened and met his, holding his gaze. Their locked eyes made the air around them even thicker with their desire.

“Gods, I love you,” Jon groaned, moving her hips faster against him.

Sansa let her head fall back, the ends of her silky curls brushing his hands where they still held her hips firmly. He began thrusting up into her as her movements stuttered, her thighs aching with the effort. He knew that she was close to another peak and reached between them, rubbing at her clit with his thumb.

“Jon… _oh gods_ … don’t stop… love you… don’t…”

She peaked with a hoarse cry, her walls clenching down around him. Jon pushed up with ease, anchoring her close to him and kissing her deeply as he turned them over. Lifting her hands over her head without breaking their kiss, thrusting into her with deep, slow strokes as their fingers entwined. Sansa wrapped her legs around his hips, urging him on with hitching words. Jon adjusted his position, holding her wrists in one hand as he reached down to hike her leg higher up on his hip. They both groaned at the new position, their sweat-slicked bodies pressed closely together as his movements grew quicker.

Sansa whispered encouragements in his ear, telling him to spill in her. Her words drove him ever closer and as she whispered that she loved him once more, Jon gave himself over to pleasure, burying his face in her hair to make his breathless curses and moans. Sansa freed her hands from his grip, stroking his back as his release overtook him, his thrusts slowing as he finished in her. When he collapsed against her chest, his ear pressed over her heart, Sansa stroked her fingers through his hair and sang quietly, knowing how much he loved to hear her voice.

“Tired already, old man?” she said teasingly after some time passed.

He huffed out a laugh, pushing himself up on his elbows to kiss her deeply.

“Not even close,” Jon said, turning them over so that she was splayed across his chest.

“Good," Sansa said, a smile in her voice as she pressed kisses over his scars. "Because I will not waste my considerable talents on an old king who tires far too soon.”

He gave her ear a flick, drawing a delightful laugh from her lips.

“I’m only twenty-three, not old. And you are delusional if you think that I’ll let any other man have you.”

Sansa propped her chin on folded hands over his chest, raising her eyebrow at him.

“What makes you think that I want you forever?" she asked, smirking at him. "Perhaps there is another man out there who is better suited to me.”

Jon reached up, stroking her hair out of her face.

“Because you came to me I was a lowly fifteen-year-old boy who had no chance for greatness in the world.”

“And how you trembled when I took you to bed. Like a nervous maid before her bedding,” Sansa laughed, her cheeks flushing with amusement.

Jon gave her a look, swatting her behind lightly.

“You taught me everything about the world and shaped me into the man and ruler that I am today. I could not go through life without you, my love,” he said honestly.

Sansa smiled down at him, though he could see a hint of hesitation in her lovely blue eyes.

“Even though your advisors all want you to set me aside and take a queen?” she asked, looking away warily as if she did not want to hear his answer.

“I do not need a queen. I only need you and our children. You have enriched my life and blessed me so much that I will banish any man from Westeros who dares to speak out against you, nobleman or not.”

Sansa grinned, looking back up at him.

“I have no doubt that you would, my king,” she said, bending down to kiss him deeply.


	34. Canon AU - Rickon remembers wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa acting like Rickon's parents because everyone else is dead or missing.

The word pierced her heart and echoed through her mind, making her want to tear her hair out.

“Mother!”

He looked at her angrily, his blue eyes so like hers, like Robb’s, like their mother’s. They were filled with confusion and anger. He did not understand why she did not take part in his delusion.

“Mother!”

 _No,_ she screamed in her mind, _that is not me! I am not our mother!_ Sansa’s hands clenched in her gown as she saw tears rolling down his cheeks. She didn’t even dismount from her horse before he began screaming out the name. The one that did not belong to her. Her eyes did not have time to take in the newly restored Winterfell before he was clutching at her skirts and pleading with her to acknowledge him as her son, though he was her brother.

“Mother!”

Sympathetic gazes came at her from every corner of the courtyard, from the servants and other inhabitants of the castle to those who rode with her. Behind her, she could feel Jon’s eyes on her, as shocked by Rickon’s behavior as she was. Sansa waited for someone else to correct him, to tell him who she was in truth. But no one stepped forward to speak.

“Mother.”

The word was repeated like a mantra, a prayer that she would respond, to assuage his fears that his mother would never return. _She left us, Rickon. They killed her and she became a monster,_ Sansa cried in her mind. But she kept her face devoid of anything but warmth, reaching her arms out towards him. He folded himself into her embrace, clutching at her gown and tugging on her braided auburn hair.

“I am home, dearest. I won’t leave you again,” she found herself murmuring, soothing him as she slipped into this act with ease.

Sansa stroked his hair, closing her eyes as she cradled him against her. His breathing calmed as he pressed his chin against her shoulder.

“Father.”

She drew away with surprise at the word, turning her head to see where he was pointing. It was not as though she hadn’t seen the similarities. Anyone would be a fool not to see Ned Stark in Jon’s face. But Rickon did not know the difference, only remembering a shadow of their father.

“Father!”

His voice raised in pitch, nearing frustration once more. Sansa looked at Jon, uncertain of what he may see in her eyes. Whatever it was, it pulled him out of his frozen reverie and carried him towards them. He kneeled beside them, reaching up to put a hand over Rickon’s cheek.

“We’re home,” Jon said simply, glancing up at Sansa to see if she would counter his words.

 _He rescued me from the Vale, he brought me home, he is the only true hero I have ever know._ Sansa reached out, taking his other hand in hers and squeezing it lightly.

“We’re home,” she agreed.

*****

Later, after the feast to celebrate their return, Sansa walked through the corridors with Jon behind her. He held Rickon in his arms, who quickly grew tired after the day’s excitement. The poor boy was asleep against his shoulder, oblivious to all that went on around him. She pushed the door to his chamber open, stepping aside to allow Jon to ease through carefully. Once he laid Rickon on the bed, Sansa tugged off the boy's boots and breeches before pulling the furs up to his chin.

“Mother,” Rickon sighed, rolling over to clutch at her gown.

She glanced up at Jon with a wary expression before carefully lying on the bed next to him.

“I’m here, dearest,” Sansa murmured, stroking his hair as she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

It came as no surprise to either of them when Rickon’s bleary eyes searched the room for Jon. He did not have to speak. Jon laid down on the other side of the bed, positioned on his side as he patted the young boy’s shoulder and kissed his auburn curls. Rickon sighed contentedly, burrowing his face into Sansa’s shoulder before falling into an easy sleep. Neither of them spoke for the longest time, unable to bridge the tense air between them. She chewed on her lip as she tried to think of where to go from here. How long would it take Rickon to figure out that they were playing the roles he gave to them? Would he resent them when he learned the truth? Her eyes lifted to see that Jon was just as conflicted as she was.

“He’s just a boy,” Sansa finally whispered.

He stared back at her, emotions swirling in his dark grey eyes. Jon pushed himself up, careful not to jostle Rickon as he leaned over him to kiss her softly.

“I know,” Jon whispered against her lips.

She sighed, taking his hand for need of comfort as they both slipped away into a troubled sleep.

*****

Several moons later, Sansa was aroused from sleep by a panicked voice at her door while someone knocked again and again. She sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as Jon groaned next to hers.

“What is it?” he mumbled.

“What do you think?” Sansa sighed, stifling a yawn as she pulled a dressing gown on over her shift.

She followed the maids through the corridors, entering Rickon’s room to find him jumping up and down on the bed.

“Stop being silly and come down from there,” she said, walking towards him.

He pouted at her but did not stop.

“Rickon Stark, you will listen to me or I will ban you from the training yard for a week,” Sansa threatened, tugging at his arm.

“Why?” he demanded.

She sighed, feeling an ache forming behind her eyes. It was hard to get him out of the habits that he’d formed as a wild child on Skagos. His tendency to question everything was one of them.

“Because I am your mother and I said so.”

None of the maids faltered at her words. Just as they went along with Rickon’s act, the rest of the castle did as well, even going so far as to call Jon _Lord Stark_. They knew what it was like before he had Sansa and Jon and they did not want to return to his uninhibited behavior. Rickon looked like he wanted to argue but something just over her shoulder made him stop. She glanced back to see Jon leaning against the door, his breeches and tunic out of sorts, and his hair still messy from sleep. His face held a stern look that finally got Rickon to clamber down from the bed.

“Go bathe, now,” Jon said, nodding at the bath behind the screen.

Sansa watched with a frown as he darted away, pulling his nightclothes off as he did so.

“He always listens to you,” she said as Jon crossed the room to her.

“Boys are always more scared of their fathers."

The word did not even give her pause as she allowed him to gather her in his arms.

“Now come back to bed, Lady Stark,” Jon said, tugging her towards the door with a wicked grin.

She smiled as heat bloomed beneath her skin, following him out willingly.

“As you wish, Lord Stark,” Sansa said, drawing him into a kiss as they staggered down the hall.


	35. Canon AU - King and Queen of Westeros

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst: Sansa is worried about Jon's coldness towards her after their bedding. Explanation = Jon is guilty for having feelings for Sansa because of what he feels as a betrayal to the memory of Ygritte.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic has two parts. The next chapter will be the second part.

It took several cups of wine for her to work up the nerve to approach her husband’s solar. Sansa’s hand hovered over the door, made into a fist as she prepared to knock. She sighed, releasing the tension in her hand to press it against the wooden surface. It was only the memory of their disastrous bedding that kept her from fleeing. It did not go unnoticed that Jon had not visited her bedchamber since the night of their marriage and she could not bear to see another pitying look tossed her way by the men and women of court.

“He will not turn you away.”

She looked over at the member of the Kingsguard that stood there. He was one of Jon’s black brothers, from before the Wall fell and the Others were defeated by dragon fire.

“I know that,” Sansa sighed, stepping away from the door.

Of course Jon would not turn her away. He was not cruel, though his disposition towards her had been rather cool since they coupled in her chambers. She glanced up at the door once more before shaking her head. It had been a mistake, even thinking of going to him. She could not speak to him of this. Not so soon. Sansa gathered her skirts in her hands and turned to walk away.

“Should I tell him that you were here?”

Sansa stopped short and let out a sigh, turning to look back at the guard.

“Please do not,” she said pleadingly.

She hurried away as quickly as she could, accepting the bows and respectful murmurs of her title as she walked through the Red Keep. Sansa was met by Ghost’s presence as soon as she ascended the serpentine steps, as if the direwolf had been waiting for her.

“What are you doing out here?” she said, bending over to scratch at his ears.

Unless he was hunting in the Kingswood, Ghost did not usually part from Jon’s side. He simply looked up at her silently, his red eyes piercing.

“Well, I will not refuse your presence if you wish to walk with me. I find much more delight in your company than that of these liars around me,” Sansa whispered, looking around at the brightly dressed courtiers and nobles that mingled in the courtyard.

She knew that none would approach her with the direwolf at her side. They feared him too much. As she walked towards the godswood, Ghost trotted happily at her side. No guards followed her, knowing that she was as safe with the direwolf as she would have been with any of them. When they reached the heart tree, Sansa sighed and knelt before it. Ghost lay beside her and she stroked her fingers through his fur as she looked up at the face of the tree. After a long stretch of time spent listening to the wind whispering through the trees around her, Sansa finally spoke her fears.

“I hardly know what to do,” she said, not knowing if she was speaking to herself, Ghost, or the gods. “Is it our childhood that disgusts him so? Or perhaps it is that I was not a maid when I came to his bed? Does he hate me for how I treated him as a child, though I have vowed to make amends for it all?”

“It is none of that.”

She gasped and lurched to her feet, turning around with her hands pressed over her racing heart. Ghost did not give any reaction to Jon’s sudden presence since he must have heard him coming, choosing simply to lay his head on his paws.

“Your Grace,” Sansa breathed, shame filling her as she realized that he heard her words.

“Sansa, please," Jon said with a weary sigh, walking close to her with a tired look on his face.

She fidgeted with her skirts, unsure of how to speak to him, especially after he heard her speak.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Grenn told me,” he answered.

Her shoulders slumped as she realized that the guard told him even after she pleaded with him.

“If it is none of that, then why?” Sansa found herself questioning, feeling her hurt and anger rising up within her. “What have I done to make you despise me so? To make you look upon me like I am haunting you?”

He looked pained at her words, shaking his head. When he reached out, she allowed him to her hands in his.

“It is not you that haunts me, dear Sansa. Nor do I despise you at all.”

“Then tell me what I have done wrong? And how can I fix it?” Sansa pleaded, feeling quite at a loss. “I only want to be a good wife and queen for you, Jon.”

He hushed her, putting his finger over her lips.

“You are good, Sansa. You are more than I could have hoped for,” he said, leading her to sit on a mossy boulder nearby.

Sansa watched as he dropped to one knee before her, brushing a lock of her hair away from her face.

“It is my own faults and past that lends an excuse to my abhorrent behavior. I should not have been so distant with you. I know that you deserved an explanation far before it came to this,” Jon said quietly, looking up into her eyes with his sorrowful grey ones.

She remained quiet, pressing her lips together as she waited.

“You have heard stories of my time at the Wall?”

She nodded, remembering the many things she heard about his time as a steward and later as the Lord Commander.

“Do you know of my time beyond the Wall? When I was not with the Night’s Watch?” Jon questioned.

Sansa frowned slightly, shaking her head. She knew that he had spent time with the wildlings and that he helped them settle in the Gift later on. But no one dared to speak of the short time in which he acted as one of them, breaking his vows for such a time.

“I had someone there, a woman that I laid with.”

A cold, terrible feeling settled in her chest at his words. Of course, he had someone else that he loved. But the realm would never accept a wildling as their queen, so he was forced to settle with her. Sansa’s anguish must have shown on her face because Jon reached up, cupping her cheek in his rough, callused hand.

“She died,” he said quietly, his eyes betraying the pain that he felt at her loss.

Sansa knew that she could not remain quiet. That she should not ignore his words.

“Did you love her?” she asked, laying her hand over his where it gently pressed against his face.

“I did,” Jon said, refusing to lie to her.

She would have felt grateful for it, if all thoughts of a happy marriage weren’t slipping through her fingers. Sansa knew that there were tears shining in her eyes and she prayed that they would not fall.

“You feel guilty, as if you have betrayed her by laying with me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I did, but only for a time. After that, I was only ashamed of my actions towards you. It was unspeakable, the way that I treated you. I cannot let a woman long dead haunt our marriage. It is unfair to me but, more importantly, it is unfair to you. Can you forgive me, Sansa?”

She took a shaky breath, wanting to rage and scream against him for this. It was not his fault that all she could see now was Jon laying with and loving another woman. It was unlikely that she could ever get it out of her mind. It was not his fault. He did not see this future when he lay with this wildling woman. But he did not have to tell her. Suddenly, she ached for the liars that surrounded them at the court. At least they would have weaved a pretty story for her and, in her foolishness, she might have believed it. But Jon was honorable to a fault, just as her father was.

“What did she look like?” she asked in a quiet voice, looking at the ground.

Jon remained silent until she looked up at him, her eyes pleading for more of his honorable truths.

“Her hair… it was kissed by fire. Red, like yours.”

Those were the last words that she wanted to hear, knowing that yet another man looked at her and saw someone else. Sansa stood abruptly as her heart shattered, knocking his hands away from her. Jon looked up at her with something like panic in his eyes as her tears finally spilled over.

“Pardon me, Your Grace," Sansa said, her voice hitching as she slipped past him. "I should return to my duties.”

“Sansa,” he said, his voice pleading with her for something.

She stopped, taking a deep breath as she wiped the tears away from her face and steeled herself.

“If you are angry, I do not want you to hide it. Tell me. Shout at me. Hit me for all I care. But I don’t want you to pretend with me,” Jon said desperately.

Sansa turned to look at him, a courteous smile already gracing her face.

“I am the queen. Pretending is all that I ever do.”

She turned away from the broken look on his face, walking back towards the keep as her back straightened and her resolve strengthened. They may look upon her with pity. They may know of her difficulties with her husband. But they would never call her weak. She would show them all that she could be as strong as any man, as fierce as any wildling, and as loving towards her people as any mother is towards her child. She would be the perfect queen, even if she could not be the perfect wife.


	36. Canon AU - King and Queen of Westeros Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basorexia - an overwhelming desire to kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: smutty smut

It started small, several days after their conversation in the godswood. Sansa came into her chambers from a stroll through the gardens to see a flower lying on her vanity. She hesitated, glancing around before picking it up. It was light pink and beautiful. She smelled it slowly, inhaling the sweet scent and delighting in it for just a moment. There was no accompanying note, no indication as to who left it for her. But she knew. How could she not? Sansa had to wonder why he would do it. Did he seek to fix everything by giving her a flower? Letting out a sigh, she set it upon the table once more before moving to pour herself a cup of wine.

It was easy to pretend that nothing was wrong right now, with the burden of overseeing all seven kingdoms upon their shoulders. But the celebrations honoring the first year of Jon’s reign were fast approaching and she was in the midst of organizing everything. Lords and ladies alike would be coming from all over the realm in two moons to attend the balls, tourneys, and mummer shows in honor of their king. They would have to present a united front, an unflappable royal couple before their subjects. Perhaps Jon had the same idea and thought that pretty things would bring her around. Sansa knew that they had to convince everyone that everything that was fine, to disprove the rumors that were undoubtedly spread throughout Westeros. They would be as closely watched as the mummers and knights during the celebrations.

She looked over at the rose once more, wondering if Jon had it right. Then she remembered his words, that he loved another and envisioned her when they were in their marriage bed. She swallowed her tears, letting the frustration and anger fill her chest as she put the cup of wine down. Sansa walked out of her chambers with a swish of her skirts to discuss the preparations with Jon’s steward, leaving the flower behind as she forced her heart to harden.

*****

A week later, she found a book of songs at her table when she sat to break her fast. Sansa hesitated, glancing up at her maids where they were bustling about her rooms. None of them met her gaze and she wondered if they were all involved in her husband’s schemes. Choosing to say nothing, Sansa glanced down at the book once more. When she opened the cover, her eyes fell a short message written in Jon’s script.

_I miss your singing. It was one of the most beautiful things at Winterfell._

Sansa closed the book with a sharp inhale, ignoring the warmth that bloomed within her chest. As much as she wanted to hold onto her anger, she could not deny that he was trying. In truth, her husband was too good of a man to hate. Later as she bathed, her soft humming filled the air. She leaned her head against the edge of the tub, turning to look at a bundle of pure white roses on her table, yet another gift. Her mouth opened and she began to sing softly, remembering an old Riverlands tune that her mother used to sing to her when she was plaiting Sansa’s hair. Her maid smiled as she handed a bar of lavender soap to her.

“You have a beautiful voice, Your Grace.”

Sansa looked over at her, allowing her a small smile.

“Thank you,” she said softly, giving the roses another look before dipping her head beneath the water.

*****

Only days before the nobles were due to start arriving at the Red Keep, Sansa awoke from a short slumber in the afternoon to hear her ladies talking and laughing, their voices filled with wonder. She slid out of the bed with a frown, walking out of her bedchamber once she donned her fine silk dressing gown, another gift from Jon, to see them surrounding a chest with awestruck smiles.

“What is it?” she sighed, knowing exactly who had it sent to her chambers.

Jon did not speak of the gifts and she followed his lead, though they dined together in the evenings and saw each other throughout the day. Sansa kept her up her icy façade, wanting to keep her heart from being broken even more.

“Tis [a summer dress](http://agameofclothes.tumblr.com/post/75812280993/summer-gown-for-sansa-reem-acra), Your Grace,” Jeyne Westerling said, urging the others to step aside.

She had allowed her brother’s wife into her service after the war ended, treating her as a sister so that Jeyne would not have to live with her terrible mother any longer. Sansa moved forward, peering into the chest. Her eyes widened when she saw the intricate detailing of the bodice. As she lifted it out of the chest, holding it to the light that streamed through the large windows of her solar, Sansa could not help but love it.

“It is beautiful,” one of the other women breathed, looking envious.

She could not help but nod in agreement.

“That it is,” Sansa said, holding it to her chest.

She was certain that it would fit perfectly if she were to put it on.

“The weather is quite warm today, Your Grace," Jeyne said, admiring the beading upon the bodice. "You have your midday meal with Lady Margaery and her cousin, Lady Elinor. Would you like to wear it?”

Sansa considered it for a moment before nodding in agreement.

“Only if you will help me,” she said with a smile of her own.

When she stepped out of the keep and into the gardens, Sansa relished in the warmth of the southern sun that she could feel through the thin layers of the dress. She looked down, smiling slightly when she saw the light reflecting off of the gems that were sewn into the bodice. Once she reached the gardens, Margaery did not hesitate to fawn over the dress, complimenting her on the beauty of the garment. Sansa knew better than to think that the other woman was only her friend and nothing more. It was hard to forget how the Tyrells had shunned her all those years ago, once it became clear that they could no longer use her. She would bet a hundred gold dragons that Margaery was the source of many of the rumors that spread around court as to the state of her marriage.

“The king had it made for me and surprised me with it on this very day,” Sansa said, smiling slightly with a purposefully dazed look in her eyes.

“Oh,” Margaery said, exchanging a surprised look with her cousin. “Does he do that often?”

She knew that the other woman was wheedling her for information and Sansa was glad to give it. If the others in the court could lie, she would do the same herself. Petyr Baelish had taught her well, after all.

“Not nearly as much, since I told him that he is far too generous. My Jon has no thoughts for himself, I assure you. But he still insists upon giving me these little gifts at least once a week,” she sighed with a feigned happiness, her smile widening.

Margaery and Elinor both leaned forward, looking as interested as they were shocked.

“And... in the bed?” Elinor questioned.

Sansa stared at her with wide eyes, her cheeks flushing at the question.

“Forgive my cousin, Your Grace,” Margaery said with a small smile, slapping Elinor’s arm lightly. “She speaks of things that she should not.”

Sansa shook her head, keeping up her coy mask.

“He is quite generous there as well,” Sansa said, biting her lip as they both gaped openly.

“You seem to have everything you ever desired, Your Grace,” Margaery said, sounding impressed yet doubtful.

Sansa forced her smile to remain on her face.

“Yes,” she agreed, nodding as she sipped at the summer wine and tried to keep the sadness from her voice. “Everything that I ever wanted.”

Later, she walked out of the gardens and towards the maester’s tower to meet with Samwell Tarly about herbs for a headache, for she was certainly developing one after that meal. Her head turned when she heard clashing steel in the training yard and her eyes fell upon her husband. He was sparring with Ser Jaime, who took his place in the kingsguard once more when they won the throne, having sworn himself to her service years ago. Sansa drew nearer the yard without truly meaning to, watching their deadly dance commence. When the men around them noticed her presence, they all bowed low, murmuring her title. Jon stopped as Jaime did, turning around as the last remaining Lannister lowered himself in a bow meant for her. The king’s eyes widened when he took in the gown that she wore, something like awe passing through his eyes. When he bent into a bow, Sansa’s breath caught in her throat.

“My queen,” Jon said, looking up at her with emotion filling his dark grey eyes.

Sansa lifted her chin, sinking into a deep curtsy as she kept her eyes fixed on his.

“My king,” she said in a soft voice, straightening up as he did the same.

Jon stepped closer to her, letting the blunted sword drop to the ground. When they stood quite near to each other with the fence as the only thing separating them, he spoke in a low voice.

“Might I call on you tonight?” he said, looking at her hopefully.

Sansa’s eyes skirted over his face, resting on his full lips. The same lips that she had the sudden urge to kiss. Sansa nearly recoiled at the thought, her heart crying out for comfort even though she could not accept such a thing from the man before her. She shook her head, clearing it of such thoughts as she stepped away.

“I do not think that is wise, Your Grace,” she said quietly, trying not to see the disappointment in his eyes. “I feel rather ill and I think that I shall take my meal in my chambers tonight.”

Jon frowned but simply nodded.

“Should I send Sam to you?”

Sansa shook her head once more, gathering her thin skirts in her hands.

“That will not be necessary. I am going to him now,” Sansa said, giving him another curtsy before turning away.

Her cheeks flushed as she remembered her desire to kiss him that seemed to come from nowhere. Perhaps it was all of the gifts that he was sending, or perhaps it was Margaery and Elinor’s words in the gardens. _Or maybe you desire your husband, as you are meant to,_ a voice said in her head. Sansa brushed it off, refusing to think of it for a moment longer.

*****

Sansa stood at her window, staring out at the glittering Blackwater as her ladies bustled around her. She played with a [necklace](http://agameofclothes.tumblr.com/post/25706421595/littlefindsforgot-sansas-necklace-from-the) around her neck, yet another gift from Jon. It was simple, beautiful, and suited her perfectly.

“Are you ready, Your Grace?” Jeyne asked.

She turned her head, staring at her goodsister for a moment before nodding.

“You are attending as well, aren’t you?” Sansa asked, standing in place as she allowed them to unlace her gown and remove her jewelry.

“Yes, Your Grace. Ser Garlan Tyrell has pledged to escort me.”

She looked down at her with surprise, seeing the light flush in Jeyne's cheeks.

“Perhaps he is courting you. He has been without a wife for several years now,” Sansa said, considering the thought.

“I do not know that it would be right, Your Grace,” she replied, her eyes shifting towards the ground.

Sansa shook her head, stepping out of her gown before pulling at the ribbons on her shift.

“Nonsense. You cannot spend forever as a widow, dear Jeyne. Robb would not want it.”

Her goodsister looked up at her with wide eyes.

“Truly?” she breathed.

Sansa smiled, nodding as she stepped into the warm bathwater.

“I heartily give my consent and I am certain that the king will do the same,” she said, remembering Garlan’s kind words to her at her first wedding feast.

Jeyne gave her a wide smile, looking thrilled at her words. Once Sansa was bathed, she allowed them to dress her in the golden silk and black Myrish lace gown. It was beautiful, shimmering in the firelight of her room. Her arms were bare and the fabric dipped low on her back. Her hair was left around her shoulders in fiery curls, only a few locks pulled away from her face to curl around the ribbon of her black mask that was decorated with Myrish lace.

“You look beautiful, Your Grace."

“Yet all too recognizable. Not many people at court would mistake me for another with this hair,” Sansa said with a slight smile, tugging at one of her auburn curls.

Jeyne moved to stand in front of her, clipping golden earrings in her ears.

“No one will dare to point out who you are. Tonight is a night for anonymity. You can be anyone that you like,” she assured Sansa.

She nodded in agreement, holding her arm out for a bracelet to be clipped around her wrist.

“I think that you are right,” Sansa said, pressing her feet into soft slippers before turning to the looking glass.

She studied her reflection, wondering what this masked ball held for her.

*****

His eyes burned into her all night yet Sansa did not dance with him even once, sharing turns about the floor with several other men. Some of them she recognized all too easily, such as Ser Garlan, and others she could not identify. After her third cup of wine, she was feeling light on her feet but she could not keep the weight of his gaze off of her. Sansa sought an escape from the ballroom and his eyes, hurrying up a set of stairs to a balcony that she knew would afford her some air. As she braced her hands on the iron railing, she breathed in the air coming from the bay. Sansa dipped her head back, closing her eyes as she felt the wind ruffling her hair and heard the crash of waves in the distance.

When she heard footsteps behind her, she knew who they belonged to without having to look. Sansa did not turn, opening her eyes to stare out at the dim lights of King’s Landing. He stood just behind her, close enough so that he could reach one of his arms around her and place his hand next to hers, curling his fingers around the railing. His other hand brushed her hair aside, revealing her neck to him. Sansa shivered and breathed out a small, trembling sigh as his lips brushed over her skin. His name was on the tip of her tongue, close to telling him that she could not do this. Not when she knew of his true thoughts.

“My lady,” he breathed before she could say a word.

Sansa let her eyes flutter closed, realizing what he was doing. It was a game. Such was the theme of the masked ball. A mummer's dance. He was simply a man and she simply a woman. Little else mattered.

“My lord,” she whispered in return.

His hand pressed against her hip, quite warm through the thin fabric of her gown.

“I could not keep my eyes off of you all evening," Jon murmured, placing a kiss just behind her ear. "You are very distracting.”

“I know. I felt your gaze,” Sansa said, reaching her hand up to curl into his hair.

His arm slid around her waist, pressing over her stomach to pull her back against him.

“I must have you,” he said roughly, nipping at her earlobe.

Sansa inhaled sharply, heat pooling low in her belly as she turned her head, briefly catching sight of his sleek black mask. Then his lips pressed to hers and all else fell away. The kiss almost painful in its intensity, not for her lips but for her heart. She did not mind, only seeking to deepen it, to be closer to him.

“Then take me,” she whispered against his lips.

He let out a groan, turning her around only to pull her into him. Sansa tilted her head back, sliding her arms around his shoulders as he shifted their position, pressing her against the cool stone wall of the balcony. Sansa arched into him as his lips trailed down her jaw and to her throat, where he nibbled and kissed at her skin.

“Now,” Sansa said desperately, tugging at his dark curls. “I need you now.”

She did not realize how much she’d missed the closeness of the marriage bed until now. Her body ached for him. A thirst simmered deep within her that only he could quench. Jon let out a soft moan against her throat as his hands hitched her skirts up her thighs. She hooked her leg around his waist when he urged it and he reached beneath her gown. He did not have to untie her smallclothes to feel the wetness that gathered beneath.

“Gods, so beautiful,” Jon said in a hushed voice, rubbing his fingers over her through the thin fabric.

Sansa let her head fall back against the wall as she shamelessly rocked her hips against his hand. When he finally untied her smallclothes and yanked them off of her, she shivered at the feeling of being so exposed, though she was still in her dress and he was the only one with her. All thoughts flew out of her head the moment he touched his fingers to her, thick and callused and so unlike her own in a rather delightful way. Jon parted her folds, stroking his middle finger up the length of her before teasing at her clit.

“Oh, gods… don’t-don’t stop,” Sansa breathed, fighting back the urge to speak his name.

He slid two fingers into her at a torturous pace, driving her near to madness.

“I need more… I need…” she gasped out, feeling a frustrating ache in her core.

“What do you need? Tell me, sweet girl,” Jon urged, kissing her deeply before she could say anything.

Sansa pulled him away by tugging at his hair. They were playing the game. She was just a woman and she could say whatever she liked, damn the consequences.

“I need you to fuck me,” she said, leaning forward to nip at his lower lip.

Jon let out a deep groan as he pressed his face against her chest.

“I want that too. Gods, I want it,” he mumbled.

“Then what are you waiting for?” Sansa hissed, tugging at his breeches.

He quickly undid the laces, hoisting her into his arms so that her legs wrapped around his hips and her ankles hooked behind his thighs, her skirts bunched up at her hips. When she felt his arousal brush against her womanhood, Sansa let out a whimper and let her head fall to his shoulder. Jon hesitated, lifting his head to kiss her softly. Their moans were muffled by the kiss as he pressed into her, filling her slowly. Her hands gripped at his shoulders tightly as she bit at his bottom lip a bit harder than she meant to. It only seemed to spur his desire. As soon as she adjusted, he pulled his hips back before snapping them forward, drawing a hoarse cry from her throat.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered against her throat.

“Don’t," Sansa gasped out, shaking her head. "I liked it.”

Jon must have heard the truth in her words because he did it once more, then again and again and again. They tried to be quiet, knowing that they could still be heard and found if they were too loud. Luckily, they could hear the minstrels from the balcony and therefore did not have to be _too_ quiet. Her fingers gripped at his shoulders tightly as he thrust into her, hitting a spot within her that made her toes curl and her body shudder. She heard him mutter something against her skin and froze, hoping that he did not say what she thought he did.

“Gods… Sansa.” he mumbled, lifting his head to press a kiss to her lips.

She shook her head, pulling at his hair tightly.

“Don’t… don’t do that.”

 _Don’t ruin the charade,_ she pleaded with him in her mind. Jon did not listen, pressing kissed to her cheeks.

“Sansa, my wife… my beautiful wife.” Jon said, gripping her hips tightly as he drove into her again and again.

She felt tears burning her eyes as she clung to him, hating how much better it all felt with her name upon his lips.

“Jon, _please…_ please don’t,” she whimpered, her tears gathering beneath her mask.

He reached up, untying the ribbons at the back of her head without slowing his pace. Sansa did not have the heart to deny him, allowing him to pull the mask away from her face.

“My sweet girl,” he said, kissing her tears away.

Sansa yanked at the ribbons of his mask as well, tossing it to the ground as she curled her fingers into his soft locks.

“Jon, oh Jon.”

He kissed her deeply, almost tender in his movements now.

“I love you,” Jon whispered when he pulled away. “My lovely, gorgeous, kind Sansa. I love you so very much.”

She let out a sob, clutching at his shoulders as she shook her head. His hand moved between them, rubbing at her clit in time with his thrusts as he repeated his love for her.

“Please, you must believe me. I love you, I do.”

Sansa pulled back, looking up into his dark eyes as he paused in his movements. She saw his love shining in them and, in that moment, knew his words to be true.

“I believe you,” she whispered, lifting her hand to stroke his cheek.

She felt wetness there as well and knew now that she would be a fool to deny his love for her.

“I believe you,” Sansa repeated, assuring him.

He buried his face in her hair, his movements quickening once more. She felt herself on the edge of her peak, her hips moving against his desperately.

“Sansa, please… tell me that-that you do… please.”

She knew what he wanted to hear and she did not have to think about it for long. Her love for him was why it hurt so much. It was why every beat of her heart echoed his name and her thoughts went to him more often than not.

“I love you, Jon. My sweet, gentle Jon,” Sansa breathed out, tilting her head back against the wall.

She let out a moan as he rubbed at her clit, clenching around him and drawing a deep groan out of his chest.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” Jon said, lifting his head to kiss her.

Her moans were muffled by his lips as her pleasure rolled through her body. Sansa arched against him, pulling away from him to toss her head back.

“There’s only you, dear Sansa. I love only you,” Jon whispered in her ear.

She let out a soft sob, pressing her face into his throat as his movements stuttered.

“I love only you as well," she choked out, the words painful and yet beautiful all at once.

He pushed deep within her, his release drawing a string of curses along with her name from his mouth. Sansa stroked his hair as he spilled within her, one hand braced against the wall and the other holding her against him. They remained still, both breathing heavily in the aftermath of their passionate lovemaking. Sansa lifted her head, pressing her lips to his softly as he pulled out of her, letting her down to her feet. Sansa pulled her smallclothes back on and smoothed her skirts out as she shook in the aftermath of their lovemaking, her cheeks burning as she thought of what they just did. Once they were sorted, she finally looked up at him only to find that he already stared back at her with a burning gaze.

“Did you mean it?” Sansa asked, almost hating that she needed to know.

Jon nodded, reaching up to touch her cheek.

“Every word,” he answered.

Sansa let out a soft sigh before smiling, feeling a weight lift off of her that had been holding her down for so long.

“Well then,” she said quietly, turning her head to kiss the inside of his wrist lightly. “I suppose that there’s only one thing left to do.”

Jon’s eyebrows furrowed slightly as he tilted his head to the side in question. Sansa pushed herself up on her toes, pressing her lips to his as her arms wound around his shoulders. He wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her back giving back in return every bit of passion that she gave. When he pulled away, Jon smiled down at her.

“My queen,” he said, holding his arm out to her.

Sansa took it with a grin once she bent down to pick up their masks.

“My king,” she replied, handing his over.

When they walked back into the ballroom, they handed the masks off to a servant as Jon led her to the floor. He held her close as she danced, both of them laughing and whispering words meant only for them, leaving no one any doubt as to the state of their marriage now.


	37. Modern AU - Politics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is a political fixer and Jon is her driver/bodyguard.

The world at large, and Washington D.C. especially, knew Sansa Stark the fixer. She had a wide knowledge of the secrets of every major politician and their families. She followed in the footsteps of her father just as her older brother did, going into politics as soon as she graduated from Georgetown University. Sansa grew up in the capital of the country and went through her life seeing the political scandals on the front page of every newspaper at the street corners. When her father was unfairly caught up in a corruption case involving the Baratheons, she was only thirteen and got to witness firsthand the work of a fixer who came through to ensure that no evidence could be built against her father or Robert Barathon. Sansa knew that her father did nothing wrong, that he simply made friends with the wrong people, and from then on she knew what she wanted to do.

No one dared to cross her, not even the Lannisters. Because if you got on Sansa Stark’s bad side, your face would be in the papers a week later. On occasion, someone inevitably got it in their heads that she would be better off six feet under, so that their secrets would stay buried with her. She had a backup plan, of course. Her cache of information would be sent to every major newspaper in the country in the event of her death if it were anything but natural. When that threat was not enough to discourage anyone with malicious intent, she had Jon. A veteran, trained in Black Ops to do things that no average soldier could. His missions were all classified due to information that could not and would not see the light of day.

So of course, Sansa knew every detail of his career.

And in return, Jon knew exactly what she did.

It was why they fit so well together. They kept nothing from one another. On the outside, Jon was simply her driver. But if anyone were to get too close or shout too loudly at her, they would find themselves in a perilous situation. Most of the time it only took one look at his dark eyes to make them back down. Sometimes, he would use physical force to let them know that they had gone too far. No matter what, Sansa was safe. To the outside world, she was a cold northern beauty, unemotional and detached. It was no surprise to any of them, with such a solemn father and a stone-faced mother.

They never saw her like he did. When she went about Washington D.C., she was always dressed to perfection. There was not a hair out of place or a wrinkle on her clothes. She was beautiful and dangerous, two things that would turn away many men, especially when they discovered who she was. That suited her just fine and it suited Jon even better. Because they didn’t get to see her as he did when the day ended and he followed her into her private elevator. As soon as the doors closed, her shoulders would release their tension and her mask would slip from her face. Her hand would always go to his shoulder and he would let her grip it tightly as she slipped her heels off.

“What if I told you to kill the whole lot of them?” she asked that night, losing several inches as she took the designer shoes off.

Jon simply gave her a look.

“Of course,” Sansa said, nodding as she smiled. “You would do it.”

It was a joke but between the lines, there was an underlying understanding. They both knew that he would do anything for her, and she would do the same in return. That was why their partnership was a dangerous one, perhaps the most dangerous in the world. Jon waited until she exited the elevator to trail after her, watching as she padded into the living room of her penthouse apartment and tossed her shoes on the carpet. A creak sounded from the hallway to the right and Jon moved quickly, grasping her arm. She allowed him to pull her behind him, knowing the drill by now. His hand went to the gun that was strapped at his hip as her fingers wrapped around his upper arm.

“Hello Miss Sansa,” her housekeeper said, stepping out with a smile.

“Hello Elise,” Sansa sighed as they both relaxed.

“I left a lasagna in the oven for you," the older woman said to both of them, quite used to Jon's defensiveness by now. "Have a good night.”

Sansa waved goodbye as she thanked her, still positioned behind Jon. When she pushed herself up on her toes and pressed a small kiss to the side of his neck, he relaxed and allowed his hand to release the gun.

“Mace Tyrell tried to set me up with his son again today,” Sansa muttered, collapsing on the armchair nearest to her. “He’s just worried that I’ll tell the Washington Times about his weekend activities.”

“They are all worried about you,” Jon said, kneeling in front of her.

She let out a soft sigh as he rubbed her feet, knowing that they were sore from walking about the city and standing all day with longwinded politicians.

“Take me somewhere,” Sansa said, pulling the pins out of her hair to let it fall over her shoulders unbound.

The corner of his mouth quirked up as he trailed his fingers up her leg.

“Where?” he asked, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her knee.

“Anywhere that doesn’t have politics or press or scandals.”

He pushed her dress up her thigh, undoing the straps of the holster that were wrapped around her pale skin. It was a necessity demanded by Jon, the pocketknife that was always strapped to her thigh, as well as the small gun that was in her purse.

 _In case I can’t get to you_ , he always said. 

_You will always get to me,_ she always replied.

“I think it might be difficult to find a place like that,” Jon said, setting the knife on the table next to the chair.

Sansa huffed and reached down, running her fingers through his dark curls.

“Take me to the bedroom, then,” she said, a glint in her eyes.

He did smile this time, a look that only she got to see. And she loved it as much as she loved him. Jon was far too serious in public, though it helped him do his job when people were unnerved by his cold, hard expression. Sansa knew better, that he held so much warmth and love beneath his skin that only she could pull out of him, just as he did the same for her. Jon stood, pulling his gun out of his belt and setting it to the side just before he pulled her to stand up, slotting his lips over hers in a bruising kiss. Sansa pressed herself against him, gasping lightly when he lifted her with ease. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he walked down them down the hall to their bedroom, ready to pass the night entangled with one another.

No one got to see them like this, but that suited them just fine.

Because they had each other.


	38. Modern AU - College

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon wakes up to Sansa cuddling him

As he woke, it did not take Jon very long to realize that their long night of studying did not go to plan. When Sansa came to him pleading for his help on her calculus final, he could not turn her away. She offered junk food and her place if he brought his considerable genius. Her words, not his. Jon was all too quick to agree. Once he arrived at her apartment and she dragged him back to her bedroom where she had everything spread out on her bed, he found himself wondering if this was really a good idea. But she turned her big blue eyes on him and he could not deny her. Neither of them planned on falling asleep in the early hours of the morning or sleeping well into the day.

Jon didn’t have to open his eyes to know the situation that he was in. Her body was warm and curled in his side, her head pillowed on his chest and her legs entangled with his. His arm was wrapped around her and the other hand rested on her hip. Yes, this was very bad. She was his best friend’s younger sister and Robb wouldn’t be happy at all to find them in this position. Once his eyes opened, Jon chanced a look only to see that her auburn hair was spread out over his chest and a contented look was on her face. His heart fluttered in his chest at the sight of her so peacefully sleeping next to him.

She was beautiful. Any man would be a fool to deny it. But Jon could not even think these words, much less say them aloud. He knew that she was out of his league in so many ways, so it was altogether unlikely that she would appreciate hearing any such words come from his mouth. Sansa had a type and he most certainly was not it. Jon took a deep breath, preparing to unwind himself from her. When her hand tightened in his shirt and she pressed herself closer to him, he let out a quiet sigh.

“Stop it,” Sansa mumbled.

He froze, realizing that she was awake. When he didn’t say anything, her eyes fluttered and she looked up at him with a tired gaze.

“Stop brooding,” she said, a frown forming on her lips.

“I’m not brooding.”

Sansa gave him a soft smile, reaching up to smooth the crease between his eyebrows with her thumb.

“Brooding is your natural state, Jon Snow. I won't have it in my bed,” she said simply, leaning up to kiss him lightly on the lips.

Jon could do little else but stare at her with wide eyes as she settled on his chest once more and let her eyes flutter closed.

“Sleep. We were up late,” she said, pinching his side lightly with a teasing smile.

Jon laid his head back and couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips as he pulled her closer. Maybe this wasn’t so bad after all.


	39. Modern AU - military!Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon comes home.

Sansa paced back and forth nervously, her hands wringing together as the eyes of her family followed her with every step that she took.

“What if it was delayed again?” she said, her voice tinged with stress and worry.

“It wasn’t delayed again,” Arya sighed, rubbing her forehead where she sat on a chair nearby.

She frowned at her sister as Gendry reached over to take Arya’s hand, knowing that she was just as stressed.

“How do you know?” Sansa questioned.

“The board says it’s arriving,” Robb answered, gesturing up at the screens where the arrivals were listed.

She looked up at it, tilting her head to the side.

“What if it’s wrong?” she said, looking back at her family.

“Oh for the love of—”

Catelyn rose to her feet, shushing Arya before she could say anything more.

“I know that you are stressed, Sansa. But the flight is on time," her mother tried to convince her. "If he wasn’t on it, he would have called you. So please, sit down and try to breathe. It does you no good to stress about this.”

Sansa closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

“It’s been eleven months, Mom,” she said quietly, playing with the small silver band around her finger.

“I know, sweetheart. But it will only be a few more minutes,” Catelyn assured her.

“No it won’t,” Robb broke in, grinning at something they couldn't see.

Sansa’s eyes flew open and she looked at her mother with alarm.

“Did the flight get canceled?” she asked, panic rising in her chest.

“Oh shut up and turn around,” Arya said, rolling her eyes with a slight smile.

She looked at her family members to see them all staring past her. Sansa’s heart leaped in her chest and she knew what she would see before she even looked. She turned slowly, her breath catching in her throat as she searched the crowd for him. When she saw him stepping out of the hallway that led to the gates, her body almost slumped to the ground in relief. Sansa felt tears springing to her eyes as she moved forward, touching her hand to her mouth as if to hold back her emotions.

“Oh Jon,” she whimpered, looking him over.

He had the military issue clothing on, all in camouflage, but his hair had grown out since she last saw him and was just starting to curl at the ends. Sansa staggered forward, not of her own volition but rather pushed by her sister’s insistent hand. Jon grinned at her, looking like there were tears in his own eyes. She started running, careless of anyone who might get in her way. He dropped his bag carelessly, holding his arms out to her just as she threw herself at him, burying her face in his shoulder. Her legs wrapped around his waist as Jon caught her with a laugh, as his arms embracing her tightly. Sansa felt hot tears on her cheeks but she did not know which of them they belonged to. She pulled away with a choked sob, pressing her lips to his desperately. Jon responded in kind, sliding a hand into her hair as he kissed her with every bit of love that he held in his heart. Sansa sighed against his mouth, pressing her forehead to his.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she whispered.

“Sorry I’m late,” Jon said, grinning at her.

She laughed as he let her back down on her feet, taking her hand in his and bending down to pick up his bag before they made their way to their family. Sansa didn't release her hold on his hand as everyone greeted him. Robb and Arya gave him tight hugs before Bran and Rickon began excitedly asking him questions. She gave them looks, effectively silencing them for the moment.

“I haven’t been the only one waiting for you,” she said, leading Jon to the nearby seats.

“Daddy!”

Two small children launched off of the seats where they were sitting with their Grandpa Ned, no longer distracted by the stories he told them. Jon bent down, opening his arms to them with a grin. Sansa watched with a teary smile as he lifted them both and they peppered his face with dozens of kisses.

“How are my girls?” he asked, looking between the twins.

“Good,” Lyanna answered, laying her head on his shoulder.

“We missed you, Daddy,” Alyssa said, patting his cheek.

“Oh I missed you too,” he said, looking at Sansa meaningfully. “All of you.”

She smiled softly, pushing up on her toes to kiss him lightly.

“Let’s go home,” Sansa said, relieved to finally have him back with them again.


	40. Modern AU - Divorce (not jonsa)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cagamosis - An unhappy marriage + "This is all your fault, you know. You made me fall in love with you."

Jon looked over at the clock when he heard the knock on his door. He knew who it had to be. He didn't know anyone else that would come around at two in the morning. Once he set aside the beer in his hand, he stood and moved towards the door. As Jon opened it, her blue eyes peered up at him with uncertainty. Her hair was a curtain over her face and he knew what it meant. Years of knowing Sansa made him aware of her habits and when she wanted to hide something, she did so behind her hair. He reached out, brushing the strands aside to see the bruise forming on her cheek. His jaw tightened at the sight of the mark.

“Invite me in, Jon,” Sansa said, reaching up to take his hand.

He nodded, stepping back to pull her inside. She shed her coat, hanging it up on the rack before moving into his kitchen. Jon leaned against the doorway, watching as she moved around as if she lived there. Sansa had been around plenty of times and making coffee was the least of what she’d done in his apartment. He recalled an entire weekend that she spent cleaning the place because she could not stand it anymore. He indulged her now, as he always did, remaining quiet as she filled the coffee pot and set it to brew. When she leaned back against the counter to wait, Jon finally spoke.

“What happened?”

Sansa looked at him, pressing her lips together.

"Same thing that always happens,” she answered, glancing away from him as she wrapped her arms around her torso. "We argued."

“About what?” Jon said, trying to keep his fury under control.

She sighed heavily, tilting her head back.

“You,” Sansa said simply, making him frown slightly.

“Me?”

She nodded, looking over at him once more.

“He said that he wanted me to stop seeing you.”

“Then what happened?” Jon asked, itching to go to her side to comfort her.

She stared into his eyes, her own glistening with unshed tears.

“I left him,” Sansa said simply.

She turned to the coffee pot once it finished, pulling two cups out of his cabinet. Jon simply stared at her, stunned into silence as she made their cups just how they liked it. He had been begging her to leave her husband for ages. Jon didn't know what changed now, but he would not argue with whatever it was. When Sansa turned around to hand him his cup, he did not miss the fact that her ring finger was bare. She glanced up at him, the look on her face making it clear that it was not an accident that she handed the coffee cup to him with her left hand.

“Why did he hit you?” Jon asked, reaching up to brush his thumb over her bruised cheek softly.

Sansa reached up, cupping her hand over his.

“I told him that I wouldn’t stop seeing you. I told him that you were worth ten of him and that nothing that he ever did would take me away from you. I also told him that you would kick his ass if he tried to stop me from leaving him,” she said, looking into his eyes to see if he would argue with anything that she said.

“I’m going to kick his ass anyway,” Jon said simply.

She let out a small huff of laughter as she slipped past him.

“Not tonight you’re not,” Sansa said, sliding into a seat at his table.

Jon watched as she sipped at her coffee, staring off into space. She looked like she belonged there and the thought pained him. Sansa had never been his to love, no matter how much he wished that she was.

“This is all your fault, you know.”

He looked at her with a stunned expression.

“My fault?” Jon said, his eyes widening.

If anything, it was the Baratheon prick’s fault. Did Sansa truly blame him for the pain that he inflicted on her? Sansa nodded, looking over at him. Her eyes were sparkling now, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“You made me fall in love with you,” she said shyly, her voice wavering with uncertainty.

Jon could see that she was tempted to look away from him so that the blow of his rejection would not hit her so hard. He moved towards her instead, sitting down in the chair to her right. When he took her hand in his, she did not pull away.

“Then it’s your fault too. Because you made me fall in love with you,” Jon informed her.

Sansa smiled, lifting her cup to sip at it.

“I have a bag in my car. I figured you and Robb would want to go back with me to get the rest of my stuff.”

He set his cup to the side, standing up.

“Go to my room and wash up if you want. I’ll get the bag,” Jon said, leaning down to kiss her forehead.

Sansa stopped him before he could leave, reaching up to curl her fingers in his hair. She guided him down, pressing a light kiss to his lips. It was over as soon as it started but it promised so much more. He smiled, nodding at her before walking out. By the time he got back inside, the lights were all turned off except in his hall. When he walked down, Sansa was standing by his dresser and pulling a baggy t-shirt of his over her head. She turned to look at him, a soft smile on her face.

“Stay with me?” she asked, holding her hand out to him.

Jon nodded, allowing her to tug him to the bed once he turned off the light. He shed his jeans and shirt before climbing between the blankets with her, wanting to be as close as he could. Sansa curled against him with a sigh, laying her head over his heart as his fingers brushed through her hair, stroking along the silky strands.

“Thank you, Jon,” Sansa whispered, pulling his other hand up to her mouth to kiss it lightly.

He smiled, bending down to kiss the top of her head.

“Thank _you_ , Sansa,” Jon said, holding her closer.


	41. Pirate AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's ship is taken by one that he recognizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jon is not related to the Starks in this.

The pirates overtook his crew too quickly, only preserving their lives when Jon laid down his sword. The last thing that he wanted was for any of his men to die for the sake of his pride. They were not just his crew, they were his friends. So their ship was tied to the infamous vessel, _Grey Wind_ , and they were brought aboard with their hands tied with ropes.

“Seven hells, what kind of pirates are these?” Grenn said, looking upon their captors.

“Murderous ones. We’ll be gutted for their amusement,” Pyp replied, looking as if he was trying his best not to show his fear.

Jon did not say a word as one of the pirates shoved him forward. It was a strange crew that manned the boat, to be sure. Most men who took to the sea, whether they were pirates or honest, thought of women as bad luck if they were on a ship. But, looking around at the marauders, he counted at least three women.

“Bring the captain forward.”

It was then that he was convinced that he’d gone mad, because Jaime Lannister couldn’t possibly be standing before him with a smirk on his face. Robb Stark had been the last the family before he died as well, leading a band of pirates in rebellion against the Lannisters after their betrayal and murder of his family. Yet there the former knight was, standing on this ship as if he belonged. Was he now the captain of the vessel after Robb’s death? Jon closed his eyes as he was forced to his knees, remembering his friend as if he only saw him yesterday. But it had been six years since Jon parted with Robb at Winterfell, leaving to seek his fortunes in the Free Cities. That was where he found his crew and saved money to buy a ship. They had been running food and supplies to the poorer villages in Westeros ever since.

“You have the look of the north about you. Where are you from?” Jaime asked, circling Jon.

He opened his eyes and glared up at the man.

“Winterfell.”

Jaime’s eyes widened slightly and he glanced over at a man who stood nearby.

“Go get the captain,” he instructed.

The pirate hurried off as the golden-haired man looked back to Jon, who could not help but wonder who the captain was if not Jaime Lannister. Rumors of Robb’s death might have been exaggerated, but surely he would not allow Jaime to live, much less serve on his ship. Not after what the Lannisters did to his family. Only moments later, they heard hurried footsteps and everyone looked to see who ascended from below the deck. She was even more beautiful than the day that Jon last saw her. She wore the same breeches and tunic as every other woman but still carried herself as if she donned the finest of silks. Her hair was mostly unbound, tumbling about her shoulders in fiery waves. She looked around with bright eyes, her cheeks flushed as she stepped towards Jaime.

“Gendry told me that-“

Sansa cut off as her eyes fell upon Jon, her pink lips parting in surprise as she stared and stared at him.

“Oh,” she breathed, stepping forward hesitantly.

It was like seeing a ghost yet he felt his heart swell at the knowledge that at least one Stark lived. Jon was certain that she was dead until now. Joffrey Baratheon certainly liked to claim that he killed her himself, though the proof of her life was in front of him.

“Jon,” Sansa said his name with such tenderness, falling gracefully to her knees before him.

She reached up, her soft hands cupping his face, her fingers tracing his scars. Jon’s eyes closed at the touch, memories rushing back to him of his wardship at Winterfell. She smelled far too good to be aboard a pirate ship, her lavender soap filling his senses. The next thing he knew, she was embracing him tightly, her face pressed into his neck as she pulled him in close. Jon would have returned the embrace if his wrists were not still bound. Sansa seemed to realize the same thing, pulling away with an apologetic expression. Her cheeks were quite flushed as she drew a dagger from her hip.

“Why do you sail under Lannister banners, Jon?” she said quietly, glancing over at his ship as she cut the rope away.

“Most pirate vessels would not dare to touch a Lannister ship. I suppose we came across the one who would," Jon said, huffing out a laugh. "We are not loyal to the Lannisters. It is to ease our journey.”

She looked up at him with her eyes shining with tears as she sheathed her blade once more.

“Oh, it is so good to see you again.” Sansa said quietly, helping him to his feet.

She looked around at her crew, who were watching them with wide-eyed interest. Her face hardened for a moment, cleared of all emotion.

“Release the crew. Give them food and wine,” Sansa commanded in a voice that drew no argument.

Jon’s men all looked shocked as their binds were cut away and their weapons returned to them. When Jaime Lannister handed Longclaw back to him, he quickly sheathed it at his waist.

“Come, Jon,” Sansa said, taking his hand. “I wish to speak to you alone.”

She gave warning looks to her crew, making it clear that they were not to follow them before guiding him below deck.

“Might I ask you something?” Jon asked as they walked down the dark, damp hallway.

“Anything,” Sansa said, glancing back at him with a slight smile.

She squeezed his hand gently and it was then that he realized that she was still holding it.

“Why is Jaime Lannister aboard this ship?”

Sansa hesitated at her door, looking down at the ground before pushing it open with a sigh.

“Jaime made a vow to my mother before her death,” she said, releasing him to light more candles in the small room.

It was clear that they were in the captain’s quarters. There was a map on the table with a compass nearby. The bed was in disarray and a trunk was at the end of it, thrown open to reveal stacks of breeches, tunics, and dresses.

“He promised her that he would save her children, if he could. Arya escaped before he could get to her. Bran and Rickon were killed at Winterfell, as I am certain that you know. I am the only one that he could help. He traveled with me, intent on delivering me to Robb. We only came upon him when he was already dead. His crew knew of me and when they told me that their work was not done, I fell into the role of captain. Jaime is not my first mate, though he is invaluable to me,” Sansa continued, pouring them both a glass of wine.

Jon took it with a grateful nod, sitting down only when she did.

“You have no word of Arya?” he asked, remembering the young girl that might have been his little sister if they shared blood.

Sansa shook her head sadly, sipping at her wine with a far off look in her eyes.

“I fear that I am the only one left,” she admitted softly, looking up at him.

In the firelight, she looked even more beautiful. Jon did not hide his gaze, though he knew that he should. She was a lady, even if she did captain a crew of pirates. Sansa smiled at him, reaching out to brush her hand through his dark curls.

“It feels like home, seeing you again. I am rather lonely here, though people surround me. None of them truly understand the North,” Sansa said quietly, drawing ever closer to him.

Jon found himself staring into her eyes, taken aback by all of the sadness and turmoil in their depths. He reached up, taking her hand in his.

“You do not have to alone anymore,” he assured her.

Sansa smiled brightly and he knew that she was remembering the same as him. Their shared moment in the godswood before he left for the Free Cities. She bestowed a kiss upon him with burning cheeks, telling him that she had nothing more to give him and promising him more if he should vow to return to her. Jon did make that promise.

“It took me long enough, but I have finally come back to you,” he said, turning his hand over to entwine his fingers with hers.

Sansa’s smile grew wider and she nodded in agreement.

“Would you like for me to call for food?” she asked.

He shook his head.

“I am not hungry.”

Sansa stood, stepping closer to him. She bent down, brushing her soft lips over his before pulling away once more.

“Come.” she murmured, tugging him up to his feet.

Jon followed her to the bed, realizing that he would eventually have to thank the pirates who overtook his vessel. Even Jaime bloody Lannister.


	42. Modern AU - College Professor + Librarian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon as some kind of university professor (maybe history) would be a lot of fun. Sansa is in charge of the library (or someone in charge of finding/buying books) and Jon can’t figure out how to ask her on a date so he makes up different research projects that the library has nothing on so that he can ask her for help finding books.

Jon's heart began racing as soon as he saw her through the clear glass door. She was bent over the main counter, tendrils of hair slipping out of the knot at the crown of her head and her plump bottom lip caught between perfect white teeth. As always, Jon found himself rooted to the spot as he tried to come to terms with the fact that one person could be so beautiful. Someone cleared their throat behind him and, with warm cheeks, he made his way inside and muttered out a curse when he predictably tripped over the rug that lay just inside. Sansa glanced up at that moment, a small smile forming on her face as he regained his balance and brushed his hair out of his face, contemplating whether to even pretend that he was there to look around. Rather than make it any more awkward by wandering off, Jon moved towards the counter, trying to make his steps look. He probably failed but at least he could pretend.

“Hi Jon,” Sansa said happily, leaning towards him with her elbows braced on the counter.

“Hello,” he said quietly, rubbing the back of his neck as he ducked his head.

When he glanced up, she was looking at him with her expression torn between amusement and curiosity.

“What do you need today?” Sansa asked.

 _Your number_ , he wanted to answer.

“A couple of different things… books,” Jon said instead, fumbling in his pockets for the small piece of paper.

He’d spent far more time than he wanted to admit looking for a subject so strange that the library would have almost no chance of having it. Sansa took the crumpled list, scanning it quickly before her eyebrows rose.

“Jon?” she said, glancing up at him.

“Yeah?” he replied, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Sansa looked like she was fighting back a laugh as she opened her mouth to speak.

“Aren’t you a history professor?” she questioned as if she didn’t know already.

Jon flushed, knowing why she asked. As he found more excuses to come to the library, his book requests became more and more ridiculous.

“History predating the nineteenth century, to be exact."

“Then why are you looking for a book of statistics on marijuana consumption and its effects on the human body?” Sansa asked, unable to keep the grin from her face.

He shrugged, searching his mind for a good answer.

“That could have historical context,” Jon said, knowing that it was a stupid answer.

Her smile only got wider and she let out a small laugh.

“And, uh… this book on scuba diving?”

“I am... looking to take up a new hobby?” Jon said, his words almost sounding like a question.

Sansa nodded, looking like it took everything she had not to burst into laughter.

“Jon?” she said, moving to the computer.

“Hmm?”

She looked up at him as she typed the titles into the database.

“We don’t live anywhere near the ocean.”

“Right, yeah I know. I just want to learn in case I, um… I move somewhere tropical.” he said, making it up as he went.

 _Or you could move somewhere now, save yourself this weekly humiliation._ Jon batted the thoughts away, waiting as she looked the books up.

“You want them delivered here or to your apartment?” Sansa asked, once again pretending like she didn’t know the answer.

“Here is fine.”

She nodded, typing in the details quickly. When she set it up to print, she glanced at him over the computer.

“So, any plans for the weekend, Professor?” Sansa said, her blue eyes sparkling.

Jon shrugged, pulling his bag up higher on his shoulder.

“Probably just grading essays,” he said, knowing that he sounded about as fun as a paper bag.

She clicked her tongue, pulling the paper out of the printer before picking up a pen to scribble something on it.

“You should at least try to have a little bit of fun, Jon. You never know, you might even end up enjoying it,” Sansa said, folding the paper up before handing it over. “The books should be here in about a week.”

Jon nodded at her, taking the paper.

“Thank you, Sansa,” he said, smiling at her.

“See you later,” she said with a cute wave, grinning back at him.

As he walked out, Jon couldn’t help but think that seemed strange about their interaction. Or, at least, _stranger_. It was only when he reached his car that he looked down at the paper that he remembered. He unfolded it slowly, his suspicions confirmed when he saw her neat writing.

_When you get bored reading weird books, you can always have dinner with me._

The message was followed by her number. Jon stared at the paper with wide eyes, glancing up at the library before reading it once more to make sure that he didn’t misread it. He didn’t hesitate, pulling his phone out of his pocket. It only took two rings for her to answer.

“Professor. This is such a surprise,” Sansa said, a smile in her voice.

He let out a soft laugh, looking up at the library. He could see her through the glass once more, sitting on the counter with her legs kicking back and forth.

“When did you figure it out?” Jon asked.

“Between the books on animals of Australia and spices in India,” Sansa answered, letting out a small laugh of her own.

Her head turned and she caught sight of him, waving her hand. He waved back, leaning against his car.

“Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

She let out a dramatic sigh, remaining silent as if she was considering it. Through the windows, he could see her tapping her chin with a teasing smile.

“It’s about time you asked.” Sansa finally said.

Jon felt relief, realizing that he should have done this a long time ago. Then he wouldn’t have had to read that book on how the Illuminati clearly planned to take over Hollywood.

“Yes, it is.”


	43. Modern AU - Doctor/Nurse Part 2

Sansa sighed, stretching her arms over her head as she awoke, feeling her shirt inch up her torso. When she felt his warm lips on her skin, a smile formed on her face.

“I can get used to this kind of wake up call,” she murmured, reaching down to slide her hand into his dark curls.

Jon let out a low laugh, lifting his head to look up at her.

“As much as I would love for this to lead to many good things, we have surgery. The guy is being prepped,” he said, rubbing soothing circles into her hips.

Sansa groaned out of frustration, letting her head fall back onto the hospital issued pillow.

“Is this a game, then? Get your girl all riled up only to tell her that it can’t go anywhere?” she muttered.

He pushed himself up, pressing a long kiss to her lips.

“I’ll make it up to my girl later,” Jon promised, stroking her hair away from her face.

“You’d better,” Sansa said, trying to sound stern.

He helped her up, handing her pager over as well as her ID badge.

“What’s the surgery?” she asked, pulling her long hair into a ponytail.

Jon walked out and she followed him, hurrying down the hallways towards the operation room.

“Construction worker fell off of scaffolding at work and a couple of concrete blocks fell with him. Well... actually on top of him,” he answered, pushing a door open for her.

“He’s really not having a good day then,” she said when they reached the OR.

She bent over a sink, turning on the water to wash her hands.

“Not at all,” Jon said, putting his hands on her hips as he kissed over her neck.

“Stop it," Sansa hissed, yet she could not help but let out a soft giggle as she drove her elbow into his ribs.

He laughed and turned her head, kissing her full on the mouth before moving to wash his hands as well.

*****

“I think that’s a record.” Sansa groaned, pulling the scrub cap off of her head.

Jon just mumbled a nonsense response, rubbing at his temples as they staggered down the hallway.

“I’ve had longer surgeries, but this one is definitely in my top ten.”

She pushed the door to the stairs open, knowing that they would take them to the on-call rooms quicker than the elevator.

“I need coffee,” she said as they descended.

“No, you need sleep. You’ve been exhausted all day long and that surgery certainly did not help at all.” Jon said, quickening his steps as he went down the stairs.

It happened quickly, but suddenly his feet were out from underneath him and he was crashing down the last few steps ungracefully. Sansa watched with shock for a moment, meeting his eyes where he was sitting on the landing, an alarmed look in his eyes. Then the laughter came, making her double over where she stood. Tears were running down her face before she was able to get herself upright again. Jon was scowling at her now, squinting his eyes as she made her way down the stairs far more gracefully than he had. She knelt in front of him, putting her hands on his face.

“Do I need to take you back to surgery, Dr. Snow?” she asked, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yes. Tell them I have a bruised ego because my fiancé decided to laugh at me before making sure that I didn’t break anything.”

Sansa let out one last giggle before leaning in to press her lips to his. He pulled her close, deepening the kiss. When she finally managed to lean away, they were both breathless and somehow even more exhausted than before.

“Come on,” Sansa said, standing up.

She helped him to his feet, giving him one last kiss before pulling him out into the hallway. They made it to the on-call room, only pausing to shed their shoes before falling onto a small twin bed together. They didn’t care if anyone saw and no one cared if they walked in on them sleeping in the same bed. In truth, the entire hospital was used to it by now. Sansa sighed as Jon pulled her back into his chest and they fell asleep curled up together.

*****

He heard the music before he even opened his eyes. Jon turned over, a small smile forming on his face. He knew that his sleeping schedule was quite strange because of work, but so was Sansa’s. It came as no surprise when he saw that it was seven in the evening. When he finally managed to slide out of bed, he staggered to the kitchen of their apartment.

To his surprise, there was more than one person in the room, making his shirtless state a little bit embarrassing. But none of the women paid him an ounce of attention. Jon leaned against the door, watching with a small smile as they danced around and sang. It was one thing to see Sansa letting loose, but another to see her doing so with her bridesmaids and looking so carefree.

Arya did not usually do something like this, and Jon was certain that she was doing it for her sister’s sake. For Margaery and Jeyne, this was normal behavior. They did attend college with Sansa, after all, and they had their crazy years together. His sister was in the mix as well and Jon had the sense that the song came from her iPhone that was plugged into the stereo. Rhaenys was back to back with Sansa, both of them laughing as they danced to the beat of the music. Jon smiled wider, glad to see his fiancé having such fun with her closest friends and sister. Margaery was the first one who noticed him, of course.

“It’s the groom!” she announced.

They all looked around in time to see him. Sansa looked surprised, flushing slightly that he saw her carefree dancing. Jon started to back away, knowing that she needed her time with her friends for a while. But Jeyne and Arya dragged him into the kitchen, much to his shock. His fiancé took a hold of his shirt, pulling him towards her.

“Not so fast, my love,” Sansa said, grinning at him.

“Traitor,” he muttered.

Though he really did not have any more complaints because she started dancing against him, her hips moving in a way that had him wanting to take her on the kitchen floor, regardless of who was in the room at the time. Sansa tossed her arms around his bare shoulders, a sparkle in her eyes that told him that she knew exactly what she was doing. Jon slid his hands around her waist, encouraging her movements.

“I think that’s our cue, ladies,” Rhaenys said knowingly.

Jon turned his head long enough to give her a grateful look. She kissed his cheek and winked at Sansa before walking out with the rest. He barely heard them leave, focused on the woman in his arms once more as she turned around in his arms. When she continued to dance against him, the movement of her hips doing obvious things to his body, Jon growled and pressed a hand to her stomach.

“Wicked woman,” he said, turning her chin.

“You love it,” Sansa replied with a grin before pushing up to kiss him.

He yanked her back against him, doing a little grinding of his own.

“Get me to the bedroom or I will take you right here,” Jon said in her ear.

Sansa giggled, letting him turn her around so that they could kiss properly.

*****

Jon felt a light touch on his arm and he turned from where he was talking to several other doctors, waiting for the meeting to start.

“Sorry to pull him away,” Sansa said sweetly, smiling at them. “I just need him for a quick second.”

The other doctors all smiled at her, nodding their assent as she tugged Jon a few feet away.

“Where are you headed?” he asked, seeing that she was dressed in jeans and a nice shirt, her hair straightened and perfume clearly sprinkled on her wrists and throat.

“Lunch with Robb. We’re talking about best man duties since apparently, you haven’t yet,” Sansa said, giving him a stern look.

He simply grinned at the reminder that they were mere months away from their wedding.

“I love you,” Jon said, leaning in for a kiss.

She rolled her eyes but allowed it to go on for quite a while before finally pushing him away.

“I’ll see you at home later. Have a good meeting.” Sansa said with a smile.

“Take me with you. You’re much better than a meeting with uptight doctors who need to discuss their own importance for a few hours.” Jon sighed, trying to tug her back in.

“You’re one of those uptight doctors, Snow.” she reminded him.

“Ouch. You hurt me, Stark,” he said, pressing a hand over his heart.

Sansa simply laughed before leaning in for another short kiss.

“See you later,” she sang, waving at him as she turned away.

He watched her go before turning to walk back to his fellow surgeons.

*****

If the page did not alert him to the fact that something was wrong, Margaery’s appearance outside of the meeting room did the trick. She looked panicked, her eyes wide and filled with unshed tears. Jon did not bother to excuse him, pushing his way out of the room to her.

“What happened?” Jon asked, his hands lifting to her shoulders as she choked out a sob.

“Th-there was an accident. They were driving back to the hospital from the restaurant. Robb was supposed to pick me up so that we could go home. They were hit.”

Jon’s heart sank and he hurried towards the emergency room with her. This could not be happening to him. Not again. When he saw Sansa standing upright, he let out a relieved breath. But then he heard her voice loud and clear as she argued with a nurse that they both knew well. She was almost screaming, her voice hitching with sobs and her body shaking violently.

“You have to let me in there! He is my brother! You can’t keep me out!”

As he hurried towards her with Margaery at his side, Jon saw the blood. Sansa had a cut on her head and another on her arm. He heard the nurse telling her the regulations and her furious, profanity-laced response.

“Sansa,” Jon breathed out once they reached her.

She turned towards him, throwing herself into his arms with a choked cry of his name. He held her close, careless of the blood that she got on him. Jon was about to get bloody either way.

“You can’t go in there, sweet girl. You know that,” he said, pulling away to put his hands on her cheeks.

Margaery stayed outside, knowing that, as Robb’s wife, she was not allowed in either. Tears ran in endless streams down her face but she looked more concerned for her best friend.

“What do you want me to do?” Jon questioned.

Sansa knew what he was asking, whether she wanted him to go in there with Robb or stay out here with her. She took a deep, shaking breath as she pulled away from him.

“Go save my brother,” she said in a hushed voice.

Jon gave her a quick kiss, assuring her that he would do everything that he could before hurrying into the trauma room to see what damage had been done to his best friend and future brother-in-law.

*****

Sansa began pacing as soon as Dr. Tarly patched her up, refusing to stop moving even as Margaery, her father, and her sister tried to get her to calm down.

“You don’t understand,” she blew up when Catelyn tried to get her to sit. “I saw the car hit us. I saw Robb… I-I heard… I saw everything.”

She looked around with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“I will sit down when I am good and ready. The next person who tries to tell me what to do again will be uninvited from my wedding.”

They all knew that she didn’t mean it, attributing the words to the medicine and the trauma. Margaery knew differently, just as Sansa did. She stepped close to her, not caring about the wedding at the moment.

“Sansa, you have to let me check on you. You know that,” she said in a hushed voice.

“No. Not until I know that Robb is okay. Not until Jon comes through those doors and tells me that my brother is going to live. I will not move from this spot until—”

Margaery hushed her, drawing her into her arms.

“It’s going to be fine. Jon is the best damn trauma surgeon around and you know that he’ll make sure that Robb is going to be standing at his side at the wedding. He might be in a cast, but he’ll be there and we’ll make sure it matches his tux.”

Sansa let out a tearful laugh, nodding her head.

“I just can’t worry about anything else, Marge. I have to know that my brother is okay.”

“You have to make sure that the two of you are okay, too,” Margaery said, looking at her sternly.

Sansa sighed and nodded, admitting defeat.

“As soon as we get news,” she promised.

Margaery leaned in, hugging her once more as she murmured her agreement. It took another forty minutes, but Jon finally stepped into the waiting room, pulling off his scrub cap. Sansa hurried towards him, recognizing the exhausted look in his eyes. She looked at him warily, suddenly terrified that everything went wrong.

“The surgery was successful. We repaired the internal bleeding and he’s in recovery. There’s only a broken arm and ankle, as well as a hell of a concussion. He will be fine."

Sansa let out a sob of relief, throwing herself at him. He held her close as the other celebrated around them.

“I thought that it was you. I-I thought that… Ygritte… I thought you were dead,” Jon whispered in her ear, finally letting the fear in.

She pulled away, shaking her head with tear-filled eyes.

“I’m fine, Jon,” Sansa assured him, putting her hands over his cheek. “I’m here and I’m fine.”

Before she could say much more, Margaery was tugging at her elbow insistently

“Now,” she said, leaving no room for argument.

Sansa glanced at Jon before nodding her agreement.

“We’ll be right back. Marge just wants to check on something,” she said, leaning in to give him a quick kiss.

They hurried out, assuring everyone that they would be back. Once they reached an examination room where the equipment was already set up, Margaery closed the door and drew the blinds, leaving them in peace. Sansa sighed, climbing onto the table before laying back.

“You know the deal, lift the shirt,” her friend said, turning on the machine.

Sansa obliged, leaning her head back.

“I’m scared,” she admitted in a hushed voice.

Margaery looked down at her with warmth in her eyes.

“I’m sure that everything is all right,” she said, spreading the cool gel over her skin.

Sansa watched with her lip caught between her teeth as Margaery put the wand to her abdomen. Their eyes watched the screen, looking for any sign of movement.

“There,” her friend said, more adept at spotting it since it was her daily job.

She saw the flutter and let out a sigh of relief, squeezing her eyes shut as she let her head thump back onto the exam table.

“Thank God,” Sansa said, aware that tears were streaming down her cheeks.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re both all right and Robb is going to be fine," Margaery said, grinning at her as she wiped the gel off of her abdomen. "He’s going to be an uncle. You know that will make him happier than anything.”

Sansa nodded, wiping at her eyes before pulling her shirt down.

“Can I have the picture? I didn’t get one last time. I forgot,” she said quietly.

Margaery nodded, printing it off quickly before handing it over.

“I’ll be the coolest aunt ever,” she said to Sansa’s belly before helping her off of the exam table.

“You’ll have to fight with Arya on that one,” Sansa said, smiling slightly as she looked down at the blurry image of her baby.

Margaery laughed, opening the door for her. Jon was there waiting, taking them both by surprise as he stared at them with a concerned look.

“What’s going on?” he asked, leaving them no time to come up with an excuse.

Sansa glanced at her best friend with wide eyes, not knowing what to do. She always knew to wait longer than this to tell but it was already bothering her to keep it from him.

“Well, your blushing bride might just need her wedding dress to be let out a bit,” Margaery said, a smirk on her face.

“I will not! I’ll barely be showing.” Sansa said, slapping her arm.

Her friend laughed, walking off to see her husband in his recovery room. Sansa turned back to Jon with a sheepish expression to see that his eyes were wide and he was frozen in place. She held out the picture, letting him take it.

“I’m only two months along,” Sansa said softly.

He stared down at the first picture of their child for several moments before a smile started to form on his face.

“We’re having a baby?” Jon said with shock, looking back up at her.

She nodded, tears springing to her eyes.

“We’re having a baby,” Sansa confirmed.

A grin broke across his face, lighting up his dark grey eyes and bringing a flush to his cheeks. Jon pulled her in for a deep kiss, being gentle with her wounds before dropping to his knees before her. Neither of them cared if they were making a scene. Sansa let out a cross between a sob and a laugh when he put his hands on her hips and pressed his lips to her abdomen. Jon gazed up at her.

“Thank you,” he whispered, looking as though he could hardly believe this was happening.

Sansa fell to her knees as well, pulling him into an embrace.

“Thank _you_.”

They stayed like that for a long time, hugging and kissing until they finally got up several minutes later.

“Come on. Let’s go see my brother.” Sansa said, taking his hand.

Jon pulled her in for one more kiss, touching his hand to her abdomen reverently.

“I love you,” he breathed, pulling away with such a tender look that she almost started crying again.

“Oh Jon,” Sansa said, shaking her head as she looked away from him. “You can’t always be so sweet. It’ll spoil me.”

He grinned, stroking his thumb over her cheek.

“Then I’ll spoil you,” Jon said carelessly, kissing her forehead.

Sansa sighed happily, letting him hold her as she assured herself that everything would be all right.

“I love you,” she said, both to Jon and to their unborn child.


	44. Canon AU - Marriage of Convenience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa walks in on Jon touching himself - she feels ashamed she can't please her husband and to her surprise a large amount of jealousy/hurt that he is thinking of another woman , he assures her that that is not the case (marriage of convenience au).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is much like the one where Jon walked in on Sansa, just in reverse.
> 
> Warning: Almost entirely smut.

She should have known better than to walk into chambers without knocking or at least announcing herself. But when she heard what sounded like a pained groan, Sansa’s imagination conjured up several horrible scenarios and she pushed the door open. Seeing Jon splayed in a chair in front of his fire, his head tossed back and his breeches undone, was not what she expected. She froze, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight of his hand moving over his cock, his eyes pressed closed and his lips parted as he panted out sharp breaths. She heard him moan something that sounded like a name but she could not make it out as she swallowed hard and took a slow step back. It was not desire that made her cheeks flush, but rather shame. Sansa had only been Jon’s wife for a few moons and already she could not please him. Whatever woman he was thinking of likely had a better chance at it than her.

She knew that the likelihood of Jon loving her the way that she loved him was quite low. Still, she felt a painful storm of hurt, anger, and jealousy at the woman who could inspire such heat within him. She took another slow step back, refusing to look at him once more. He hadn’t noticed her yet, which was a good thing. But it seemed that she did not get the silent exit that she wished for, because her foot caught on the threshold of his solar and she staggered against the wall, letting out a gasp before catching herself. Sansa winced when she felt Jon’s eyes on her. If she were still a child, still that girl she was the last time she was at Winterfell, she would have turned and run. But she was a lady. She was a _queen_. And queens did not run. She lifted her head slowly, unwilling meeting his shocked gaze.

“I apologize, Your Grace,” Sansa said quietly, unsure of what else to say as she wrung her hands together. “I only thought that… I-I did not know.”

Jon sat straight-backed on the chair, his breeches hastily tied and his hands clenched on the arms.

“Sansa,” he sighed, looking like he might stand if it were not for the noticeable fact that he was still quite aroused. “It is not a crime to see your husband this way.”

She looked at him with a frown.

“Is it not? Perhaps it is the shame of knowing that I cannot please him well enough that he must resort to such things.” Sansa said, the words slipping out of her mouth.

He looked at her with a pained expression.

“Come here, please,” Jon said, holding his hand out.

Sansa hesitated before stepping inside and closing the door. It was just as well that they got everything out in the open now. Their marriage would likely be better for it. At least they would be honest with one another. She crossed the room to him, allowing him to take her hand. She gasped with surprise when he pulled her down to sit on his lap.

“It is not that you cannot please me,” Jon assured her, his own cheeks flushing even as he spoke.

Sansa looked down at her hands in her lap, chewing on her lower lip.

“Is there another, then? A different woman that you would rather have in your bed?” she asked quietly.

Jon lifted her chin, looking deep into her eyes.

“There is none other. It is you that made me feel this way.”

She frowned, feeling quite confused at his words.

“How did I do…that?” Sansa asked, trying to think of what she might have done.

He smiled slightly, letting out a little chuckle.

“You did touch me quite a lot when we broke our fast this morning. My hand, my leg, my shoulder, my neck,” he trailed his fingers over her skin as he spoke, making her shiver. “And how you smelled and the way you bit your lip… just like you’re doing now. It is all very overwhelming for your poor husband.”

Sansa smiled as well, feeling warmth building in her chest, and other places, at his words.

“You were thinking of me? As you touched yourself?” she asked, putting her hand on his chest where his unlaced tunic fell away to reveal the smooth skin beneath.

Jon nodded, looking at her with eyes that were almost black with desire.

“Your beautiful hair,” he said, running his fingers through her long auburn strands. “Your soft skin,” she let out a sigh when he ducked his head and pressed his lips to the swell of her breasts where they peeked out of her gown. “Your sweet cunt.”

She whimpered, gripping at the back of the chair as heat pooled between her thighs.

“Jon,” Sansa said in a strangled voice, her fingers sliding into his hair.

He lifted his head, pressing their lips together. The kiss was soft at first but quickly turned to more as he wound his fingers into her hair. As they kissed, Sansa realized that in their short time of being married, Jon was always the one to initiate the physical acts of love between them. It was no wonder that he resorted to taking himself in hand. It was just as likely that Jon was as uncertain about her feelings for him as she was when it came to how he felt about her. Sansa pulled away, whispers of maids in the dark corners of Winterfell going through her mind. It often seemed that everyone in the world knew more about the marriage bed than Sansa, but she was grateful for the fact that she’d learned to listen in her time at the Red Keep and with Petyr. Without that, she would not have known how to do what she was about to try. Sansa pulled away from him, stroking his cheek before standing. Jon looked at her with confusion as she swept her hair over her shoulders before kneeling down. Her hands touched his knees hesitantly as she looked up at him.

“I would like to touch you,” Sansa said softly, looking at him from beneath her lashes.

He let out an appreciative noise, reaching down to brush his thumb over her lower lip. She let her lips part before closing them around his thumb. His answering moan was much louder as she bit down lightly before swirling her tongue around his thumb. Sansa ran her hands up his thighs, slowly and deliberately unlacing his breeches. She watched his face as she took him in hand, pleased to see his eyes slide closed and his jaw grow slack. Sansa touched him tentatively at first, growing used to the feel of him in her hand.

When she gripped him more firmly and began stroking him, her name poured out of his mouth in a low growl. Sansa could see from the way he gripped the arms of the chair and trembled beneath her touch that he held himself back for her sake. She leaned forward, giving him little warning for what came next. He let out a strangled noise when she licked at the tip hesitantly, tasting him.

“Sansa, you don’t…you don’t have to do this,” Jon said, looking down at her with wide eyes.

His words were filled with lust and desperation, bringing a slight smile to her face as she realized that this was the one man who put chivalry above his own desires. She didn’t have to do this, but she wanted to. He had brought her pleasure with his mouth many times before and now it was her turn. Sansa swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock. Jon let out a groan of her name, along with several curses that she was certain he would not speak in front of her were she not currently putting her lips and tongue to rather licentious uses. She trailed her lips over his length, occasionally flicking her tongue out to drag over the soft skin if only to hear the noises that it drew from his mouth. She was burning for him, her body trembling with her need as she took him in her mouth once more and bobbed up and down. Sansa was careful not to take him too far in, not wanting to ruin the moment if she were to choke. She looked up at him as she stroked her hand up his length and sucked on the tip. His eyes were heavy and dark, filled with desire and love that made her heart swell and her stomach flutter.

“Come here,” he said, trying to tug her back up to him.

“But I have not… you have not…” Sansa flushed, averting her eyes.

Jon pulled her to her feet anyway, quickly undoing the laces of her gown. She pushed it to the ground once it was loose enough, stepping out of it before pulling her shift over her head at his urging. He let out a sigh and ran his hands over her smooth skin, undoing the ribbons of her smallclothes. Once she was well rid of everything, Sansa straddled his lap, guiding him to her before sinking down on him. They both moaned as their lips met once more. She knew that he would not last long after all that she had done with her mouth and reached between her legs. Jon pulled away when he felt her fingers brush against his abdomen, groaning when he saw that she touched herself. Sansa rocked against him, his hands holding her hips to keep her steady as she tossed her head back and whimpered at the heady feeling of being filled so completely and wonderfully. His head ducked and he took her nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before lightly nipping at it. Sansa’s movements grew quicker as she felt pleasure coiling in her belly.

“Jon.” she gasped, sliding her hand into his hair.

He moved his hand between them, brushing hers out of the way. Sansa let out a cry, clutching him close as her peak made her eyes squeeze close and her back arch. Jon thrusted up into her once more before his own release overtook him. Sansa pressed his head to her chest as he spilled in her, stroking his curls with trembling hands. Jon pressed soft kisses over her pounding heart, his fingers trailing up and down her back softly. Sansa curled against him, pressing her face into his neck as they recovered.

“Perhaps we have been foolishly blind,” she said with a smile, turning her head to lay it on his shoulder.

Jon chuckled, a noise that rumbled through his chest and made her laugh as well.

“Well now that our eyes have been opened, we should make up for all the lost time.”

Sansa nodded in agreement, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

“We should.”


	45. Canon AU - Bank Robbery + Cop!Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cop!Jon coming to the rescue of Sansa.

“What do we have?” Jon said, hurrying up to the car.

As Sam spread out blueprints of the bank on the hood of the car, Jon tugged at the constricting bulletproof vest that he wore under the standard FBI windbreaker.

“They’re holding the hostages in the manager's office, here,” he said, pointing at a room that was in the exact center of the building, no windows or eyesight to the doors.

“So they’re pros," Jon nodded, already getting into the mindset of negotiator. "What do they want?”

“They haven’t called back yet.”

Pyp and Grenn hurried up to them, both with stressed looks on their faces.

“They have chains on the doors. No one is getting out unless they allow it,” Pyp said, glancing back at the building with a frown.

Jon rubbed at his forehead, taking a deep breath.

“Call in reinforcements, I don’t care if they’re from Chicago PD or the agency. And need to keep the press back," Jon instructed, nodding at the news vans that were already gathering like sharks smelling blood in the water. "Until we know who these guys are, we can’t have reporters snooping around. Get Director Mormont on the phone, tell him we’ll have info soon. And call SWAT. Have them ready. We might have to bust into this place if it goes badly.”

His hands shook as the others scattered, all pulling out their phones to do as he said.

“How are you doing?” Sam asked, knowing why he was nervous.

It was his first time to run one of these situations by himself. He had been preparing for this exact thing for years, yet it didn't seem to help at all.

“Scared as hell.”

Moments later, the phone on the hood of the car began ringing. He exchanged a look with Sam before picking it up.

“Hello?” he said in a smooth voice, removing all emotion from it.

There was silence for several moments, making his brow crease.

“H-hello?” a quiet female voice said.

Jon squeezed his eyes shut, pinching the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb. They'd put a hostage on the phone, which made his job a hell of a lot harder.

“What’s your name?” he asked, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing.

It was the only way he would get anything out of the woman.

“They only want me to tell you what they want,” she said with a sniffle.

“All right, how about you tell me what they want?” Jon asked, trying his best to keep the situation under control.

She didn’t say anything for a few moments.

“Ten million dollars. We know who we have in here. The vault doesn’t have enough money. Get it in four hours or—” she let out a sob, interrupting the words that she was clearly reading out to him. “Or we’ll start killing someone every ten minutes. Do not underestimate us. The Faceless Men do not fear anything, not even death.”

Jon scribbled down the words as she spoke them, not wanting to leave anything out.

“What does that mean? Who do they have?” he asked.

Another moment's pause, as he heard nothing but her soft breaths.

“Am I allowed to tell him my name now?”

Whoever she asked must have responded because she let out a shuddering sigh before speaking once more.

“My name is Sansa.”

The name sparked something in Jon’s mind that he couldn’t quite figure out.

“Sansa, huh?” he said, gesturing for Sam to come back over from where he was talking with a police officer. "That’s a pretty name."

She let out a teary laugh that nearly turned into a sob at the end.

“Sansa Stark. That’s what they want you to know.”

Jon’s stomach did a sickening flip as he braced his hand on the back of the car. Now he knew exactly where he recognized her name from. Jon had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing, knowing that this was getting more complicated by the second.

“Miss Stark?” he said, trying to keep his nerves under control.

There was only silence on the other end for a moment.

“Yes?” she finally replied.

“I’m going to get you out of there safe, all right? Everyone is going to be fine, I promise. My name is—” he started to tell her Agent Snow, but knew that would only distance him from her. “My name is Jon.”

“Jon, they’re making me hang up now,” she said in a panicked voice.

He spoke quickly, wanting to give her one last word of reassurance.

“You’ll be fine, Sansa,” Jon said.

The phone went dead as he spoke and he didn’t know if she heard him. As he ended the call, Jon bowed his head and kicked at the wheel of the car.

“Shit!” he cursed, swiping a hand through his hair.

“What?” Sam asked, looking at him with wide eyes.

Jon paced away for a minute before turning back to him, his hands on his hips and a deep scowl on his face.

“They have Ned Stark’s daughter in there.”

*****

By the time the appropriate calls were made and the SWAT team pulled up to the bank, over fifty minutes had passed. No more calls had come in the interim and Jon was pacing again, hating that he was stuck outside doing nothing. The leader of the SWAT team leaped out of the van before it even came to a full stop, charging towards Jon once he was pointed out to him. His auburn hair was in disarray and his blue eyes were filled with panic.

“What’s being done?” the man asked once he reached him, leaving no time for introductions.

Jon eyed him warily, unused to seeing a SWAT member in such disarray.

“We’re waiting for word on who the men are. They called themselves the Faceless Men. They’ve singled out one of the hostages…”

“I know all of that. When is the Attorney General getting here?” the man demanded, his voice harsh and impatient.

Jon raised an eyebrow at him and the man seemed to realize how he sounded.

“I’m sorry,” he sighed, his shoulders slumping. “I don’t mean to be such an asshole. It's just... my name is Robb Stark and that’s my little sister in there.”

He understood instantly, nodding as he reached out to put his hand on the other man’s shoulder.

“My name is Jon Snow. I assure you, we are doing everything we can to get her out of there, as well as the rest of the hostages. Your father is on his way with my director,” Jon said, using the same calming voice that he did with Sansa.

The phone rang in his hand as if his thoughts conjured the call and he looked down to see that it was the same number.

“Is that them?” Robb asked.

Jon nodded, looking at him warily.

“You have to let me do my job. I’ll get her out of there,” he assured him before answering the phone.

The SWAT leader took a step back, nodding in agreement. Jon answered the phone the same way, unsure of who would be on the other end.

“Jon?” Sansa’s voice said.

She sounded less teary and surer of herself, which could either be a good thing or a bad thing.

“Sansa, I’m here,” he said in a reassuring tone as Robb's head snapped up at the sound of his sister's name.

She made a noise that sounded like a sigh of relief.

“They’re getting impatient. They want to know what is happening.”

“The money is on the way,” Jon lied, knowing full well that there would be no money. “Your father is coming too and I have your brother here with me. He’s armed, so I hope that no one has hurt you for their sakes.”

Sansa let out a short laugh before breathing in deeply, as if steeling herself for something.

“Tell Robb that I saw the game. I watched the Yankees get their asses kicked.”

Jon frowned, wondering why she was suddenly talking about baseball.

“Sansa—”

“You have to tell him, Jon. I can never resist making his face turn all red. You'll see. He loves the Yankees,” Sansa said, a strange tone in her voice.

There was a sudden fumbling noise and a cry of pain before the line went dead. The sounds left him concerned but he couldn’t think about it at the moment. There hadn’t been a shot fired so no one was in mortal danger, hopefully. Jon looked up at Robb as he ended the call.

“What did she say?”

Jon relayed the message to him, surprised when Robb’s face broke out in a grin.

“What does that mean?” Jon asked, almost certain that it was code for something.

“The day that Sansa watches baseball is the day that hell freezes over," Robb said, his shoulder slumping with relief. "And I hate the Yankees. Our whole family does, we’re always talking about how they talk big but can’t back up their words at the end of the day."

Jon realized quickly what it meant, as he was no stranger to implied messages from hostages.

“The Faceless Men aren’t as prepared as they would like us to think,” he said, glancing at the building.

At that moment, several black cars pulled up. They watched as his director got out with Attorney General Stark, Robb and Sansa’s father. He was a decorated war hero and lived up to his reputation, a stern expression on his face as they approached him.

“Dad,” Robb sighed, stepping towards him.

The solemn look broke for a moment as father and son hugged before they turned to Jon.

“You’re young,” Ned Stark said, looking Jon up and down.

“He’s the best damn tactical guy we have, sir. You can count on him to see this through,” Jeor Mormont assured him.

Jon felt about two inches tall as the older man scrutinized him.

“That’s good enough for me,” he finally decided.

“What do we know?” Mormont asked.

Jon filled them in, telling them the plan that had been stirring in his mind.

*****

When it was all said and done, no one was hurt except for one of the culprits, who was shot in the abdomen and taken to the hospital. Jon sat on the curb, brushing his hair away from his face as he shoved his gun into the holster at his waist. His plan had gone off without a hitch, earning him a handshake from Ned Stark and an invite to beers from Robb. When a shadow fell over him, he looked up to see a beautiful redhead staring down at him. He hadn’t gotten the chance to see any of the hostages, but he knew exactly who she was. She sat next to him, pulling the orange shock blanket closer around her shoulders. The wind ruffled her long auburn locks, filling his senses with the scent of her sweet-smelling soap.

“Hi Jon,” she said softly, smiling at him.

“Hey, Sansa."

She leaned towards him, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” Sansa said, her blue eyes filled with gratitude.

“For what?” Jon said, slightly confused.

If he was being honest, it was rare that he was thanked for simply doing his job.

“For keeping your promise.”

He stared at her for a moment before reaching up to brush his thumb over the bruise on her cheek.

“They hit you when you gave me that code.”

Sansa nodded, turning her head away from him.

“Dad prepared us for something like this, just in case it ever happened. We know how to think quickly,” she said, watching as Ned talked on the phone to his wife, assuring her of the safety of their children.

“Well you saved a lot of people’s lives today too,” Jon said encouragingly.

She smiled widely, her eyes shining as she tilted her head back towards him.

“Are you off duty now?”

“I have some paperwork," Jaid before he realized why she was asking. "That I can easily finish later.”

Sansa looked pleased as she stood up, holding her hand out to him.

“I could really use a cup of coffee,” she suggested, glancing down at him shyly. “How about I buy my knight in shining… windbreaker… one too?”

Jon laughed, taking her hand as he rose to his feet.

“I’d like that.”

Though he'd never had a day on the job end this way, Jon certainly wasn't about to complain.


	46. Canon AU - Sansa has a baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa gets pregnant with Jon's baby but refuses to name the father to her parents. When her baby is born with the Targaryen looks, Ned figures it out and confronts them about their relationship's troubling nature.

It was long, difficult, and painful. But then, her mother did not describe anything different. Just when she thought she’d experienced the worst of it, her body seized with a new wave of intense pain. Catelyn was on one wide of the bed and her septa on the other. Neither of them were any help at all, encouraging her to breathe when she wasn’t screaming so loudly that her head swam and her throat burned. It took everything that she had not to scream for Jon as she brought his child into the world. That would leave no doubt in anyone’s mind as to who she had lain with and they wouldn’t care about the love that they had for each other if they found out.

That was why it had to remain a secret.

As she slumped back on her pillows, sobs wracking her body, Sansa wondered if he was outside of her chambers like her father always was for her mother. Was he worried for her? Did he want to come in as much as she wanted him to? If she screamed his name, would he force his way through the door and come to her side? Sansa knew the answer to every question. He would do that and more, if he had the chance. But she kept it all to herself, accepting a cool drink of water from her septa.

“Mother,” she said hoarsely, reaching her hand out.

Catelyn took it in both of hers, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“You are doing so good, Sansa,” she praised, though she hated that her eldest daughter was in this bed giving birth to a bastard.

Sansa shook her head, letting out a soft whimper.

“I can’t do this. It hurts so much,” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut.

“I know it does. But you can do this. You are so close,” Catelyn encouraged her gently.

The midwife called for her to push once more and Sansa let out a filthy curse that would have made Jon proud, though her mother called out her name in a chiding tone. She did not care, her back arching as she pushed as hard as she could. A guttural scream ripped its way out of her chest as she felt something slip from between her thighs. She knew that it was over when she heard the piercing cry. Sansa collapsed, sobbing with a mixture of pain and overwhelming relief as the midwife worked between her legs to finish. Catelyn stroked her sweat-soaked hair, not saying a word as she watched Maester Luwin take the newborn babe. Sansa lifted her head with what energy remained, wanting to know whether she had a son or daughter. When she saw the concerned look that Maester Luwin’s face held, her heart sank.

“Mother? What is it? What is wrong?” Sansa asked, looking up at Catelyn helplessly.

She did not answer, helping the maids as they came to clean her up. She didn't want them to touch her before she saw her child, though she did not say as much. They pulled her shift off, cleaning the blood and sweat off of her. When her hair was washed and braided over her shoulder, Sansa let herself be helped back into the bed that held fresh linens.

“I want my child,” she said, refusing the milk of the poppy that the midwife tried to give her.

The pain was nothing compared to the terrifying feeling that the silence in the room, apart from the babe’s cries, gave her.

“Bring my child to me now,” Sansa demanded, growing more and more panicked.

Maester Luwin finally moved over to the bed, a bundle in his arms. She held her arms out, her heart pounding quickly in her chest. He carefully put the babe in her arms, stepping back once she was settled against the pillows. Sansa looked down with wonder, feeling love bubbling up in her chest that she did not know she could feel so quickly.

“I have a son,” she whispered, stroking her hand over his full head of dark hair.

When his eyes opened at the touch, she let out a gasp of shock. His eyes were not the dark Stark grey of his father, nor the vivid Tully blue of his mother. They were a deep violet with an outer ring of dark grey.

“Is he healthy?” Catelyn asked, sounding concerned.

She hadn’t seen his eyes yet. Sansa’s mind whirled as she tried to understand.

“I want Father,” she said, knowing that only he could give answers.

Sansa looked up to see Maester Luwin and her mother looking at her with surprise. She stared back at them, resolute in her command. Though they tried to argue that she needed rest, Sansa refused to hear any of it. Once her father was finally allowed in her chambers, Sansa watched as he crossed to her mother's side. He watched her warily as if she was a wild animal that would attack at any moment and not his secondborn child.

“Is everything all right?” she heard him ask softly.

Catelyn did not have an answer for him, simply staring at Sansa with suspicion and fear.

“I want to speak to you alone, Father," Sansa said, holding her head high. "I wish to tell you, and you alone, the truth of my son’s father."

Ned stared back at her before nodding his assent. Her mother started to argue but she gave in when he whispered something to her. Once they were left alone, Sansa looked down at her child.

“Come look at him,” she said, careless of the fact that she was speaking too loosely with her father.

He did not argue, crossing to her bedside. When Sansa held out the babe and allowed him to take her son into his arms, she watched he looked down and his eyes widened when he saw the same thing that she did. The singular trait that gave Maester Luwin pause.

“I doubt that I have to give you a name.”

He shook his head, looking slightly pale as he sank onto the bed.

“My son should meet his father, should he not?” she pushed, wanting Jon in there more than anything.

Ned looked up at her with wide eyes.

“How long have you known?” he asked quietly, settling her son back into her arms.

“That Jon is not your son? For years now, " Sansa said, cradling her child close to her chest. "It never made sense for him to be your son. We thought that it was Uncle Brandon, but he isn’t Jon’s father either, is he, Papa?”

Her father did not answer as he stood from the bed, crossing the room without saying another word. Sansa stared after him, hoping quite desperately that he was fetching Jon. She looked down, smiling slightly as she gazed at her child. When he let out a sharp cry, Sansa hesitated. No one had the chance to tell her what to do. Yet it was instinct that led her to unlace her shift and pull her child to her breast. He let out a contented noise as he fed and she watched with wonder even though the feeling was odd, cradling his head in one of her hands.

“My boy,” she whispered, feeling another surge of overwhelming love for him. “My beautiful boy.”

The door opened once more and she looked up to see Jon standing there, a panicked expression on his face. Sansa reached out for him, caring little that her father followed him through the door. Jon moved to her side quickly, taking her hand in his. She pulled him down to sit next to her, lifting her hand to cup his cheek as she kissed him deeply. Jon did not protest, though he did not know what was going on. When Sansa pulled away from him, she found that a smile was forming on her face.

“We have a son, Jon,” she said, looking down once more.

His expression was as awed as hers when he saw their child feeding from her breast.

“He is beautiful,” Jon murmured, stroking a hand over his forehead.

Just as he did with her, their son opened his eyes at the touch and looked up at his father quizzically. Jon froze, stunned at the color of his eyes. Sansa lifted her head, fixing her gaze on her father, who was standing at the end of the bed.

“Is Jon a Targaryen?”

Ned took a deep breath as they both looked to him for answers.

“Only half,” he answered in a low voice. “I did not deceive you entirely. You are my blood, just not my son. Lyanna, my sister, was your mother. She was wedded and bedded to Rhaegar when he took her to Dorne and left her in the tower of joy. It was there that she gave birth to you and there that she died of childbed fever.”

Sansa clutched at Jon’s hand, feeling a wave of relief that they were right.

“That does not make this any less troubling,” Ned said, gesturing between them.

She looked up at Jon, wondering how he would react to her father’s, and his uncle’s, words. He was staring straight at Ned, looking resolute as his chin lifted.

“I love her.”

Sansa felt an overwhelming rush of emotions, tears filling her eyes.

“And I love him,” she added, looking back at her father.

He was staring between them with an expression torn between shock, anger, and relief.

“Stay with her,” Ned finally said, nodding at Sansa. “I must go speak with your mother.”

Sansa watched as he left, but Jon did not do the same. He was staring at their son as he withdrew from her breast.

“Would you like to hold him?” she asked, pulling her shift back into place.

Jon looked up at her with his eyes shining with happiness. He slid onto the bed next to her, taking the babe in his arms carefully.

“He’s sturdy,” he said with a smile.

“He looks so much like you already,” Sansa said, resting her chin on his shoulder.

Jon turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t here.”

She shook her head, reaching up to smooth the crease between his brows as she assured him that it was all right.

“What are we going to name him?” Sansa asked.

Jon looked down at him, thinking on it for a moment

“Eddard.”

Despite the fact that he deceived everyone into thinking that Jon was a bastard, and his lies forced them to keep this all quiet, both Sansa and Jon still had admiration for her father. They knew that he was an honorable man and that everything he did was for his family's protection.

“Little Ned,” Sansa said with a smile, leaning down to kiss their son’s forehead.

When she straightened up, she swayed a bit and knew that it was time for her to rest.

“I am very tired, my love," Sansa said, sliding down beneath her furs. "If he gets hungry, do not let them call for a wet nurse. Wake me up.”

Jon leaned over, kissing her gently as her eyes fluttered closed.

“I would like to make you my wife now,” he said in a soft voice.

Sansa smiled at the thought, curling up beneath the furs as her hand found his.

“As soon as I am able.” she agreed with a sigh.


	47. Modern AU - Jon's trying to propose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon tries to figure out how to ask Sansa to marry him. He ends up asking his friends for advice and/or watching youtube videos and gets caught by Sansa.

She would be blind if she did not see it. Sansa only wondered how it took her so long. She loved Jon, but he was not great at keeping secrets. It was a comforting thought, after dating so many men who were all too good at keeping things from her. There was also the fact that Jon had enlisted the least subtle people to help him. When she walked in Arya digging through her jewelry box and sliding one of her rings on, it was obvious that she was not looking for something to wear. Her sister mumbled something about wanting to know her own ring size before hurrying out of the room before Sansa could say a word.

Robb was no better, recalling how he asked Roslin to marry him before asking Sansa how she would like to be asked. The temptation to laugh and reveal that she knew what he was doing was very strong, but she pushed it away and simply said that she would be happy with anything. She loved Jon, but he was going about it all the wrong way, and she wasn’t going to make it easy on him. It was only when her own father casually brought up public versus private marriage proposals that Sansa had enough. She was almost irritated at this point, wondering how her future husband could be so thick.

Yet she kept it all to herself, knowing that Jon was trying his hardest to do this perfectly. He didn’t want to let her down, and she loved him even more for that even though she wanted to knock some sense into him as well. When she asked to borrow his laptop, because hers wasn’t working, she wasn’t on the internet for a minute before she saw the videos that he searched for. Other men wanted to hide that they'd searched for porn, but not her man. Jon ran into the room with wide eyes, yelling out for her to stop when he remembered that he researched different videos of proposals. Sansa saw the look on his face go from wary to ashamed as he slumped on the couch.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing at his forehead.

She stood and walked to him, pushing him back and sitting on his lap.

“Jon, you know that I don’t need any of this,” Sansa said, stroking her fingers through his hair.

His arm slid around her back, his hand resting on her hip as he looked up at her with confusion.

“What do you mean?” Jon questioned.

She smiled slightly, bringing his other hand up to kiss it softly.

“I don’t want a fancy proposal on a yacht or in a five-star restaurant. Maybe I would have a long time ago but I’m not that person anymore. If you want me to marry you, I want you to ask in a way that you’re comfortable with. I don’t care how it happens. I only care that you love me and I love you and that we want to spend the rest of our lives with each other. Anything else doesn’t matter.” Sansa said honestly, staring into his dark grey eyes.

She hoped that he believed her because every word rang true. The best thing about their relationship was that they did not have to try that hard with each other. They were so natural together that it was almost effortless, compared to some of her other failed relationships. Jon stared at her with sheer awe in his eyes for a moment before reaching into his pocket. Sansa drew back with wide eyes as he pulled out a small black box, not expecting it to happen right then.

“Then, Sansa Stark,” he murmured quietly, opening it to reveal a beautiful [princess cut diamond ring](https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/318418636155882134/). “Would you be my wife?”

She felt her eyes filling with tears as she nodded quickly, leaning down to kiss him deeply. Once she pulled away, she looked down at the ring with awe.

“Of course I will marry you, Jon. Nothing would make me happier,” she said with a grin.

He smiled as well, his own eyes shining as he slid the ring on her finger. Sansa let out a delighted laugh and kissed him again, knowing that she wouldn’t have it any other way.


	48. Hunger Games AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is Jon's stylist

She was not allowed to bet. The rules were clear. Sansa was a stylist and nothing more, stuck watching helplessly as twenty-three other tributes and the game makers themselves did everything that they could to destroy him. Religion did not exist anymore, banned by the Targaryens long ago when they conquered the seven kingdoms and started the games. But for three weeks, she sat before the screen in her Capitol apartment praying that he did not die. It was ridiculous and irresponsible, falling for him when she was only meant to make him look his best for the cameras. She did an excellent job dressing him, no one denied that. It was her first year as a stylist and everyone was raving over her, saying that she was the best anyone saw in years. She was proud at first, but that did not matter to her now.

All that she wanted was for him to get out alive, no matter the cost. But even as he survived through the blood bath at the beginning and all the way through the last three victors, she wondered if the cost was worth it. His eyes grew more haunted and his face more gaunt as the days went on. Sansa could not watch when he was subjected to the whims of the game makers, burying her face in her hands. Her siblings looked on with sympathy when they were there. Robb even tried to talk to her about it, though she could not bring herself to answer. How could she tell them what she felt for him? They would think her foolish, and perhaps she was. It was only asking for heartbreak, falling in love with a tribute.

But he did not die. Sansa wept when he stood alone in the arena, the final tribute, the victor, surrounded by the blood of those who died so that he could live. He looked almost dead himself, falling to his knees out of sheer exhaustion as the hovercraft approached. She did not have long to sort out what she felt, taking calls from her assistants to discuss his outfit for the final interview. As soon as he was released from the hospital and taken back to the apartments, Sansa slipped into the training center under the guise of speaking with his mentor. When Jeor Mormont saw her, he simply took a heavy drink from his flask and nodded back at the hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Sansa found his easily, stepping inside on quiet feet and closing it behind her before turning to face him. He sat on the edge of the bed, his back to her. His head was lowered and he wore only a pair of cotton pajama pants. Sansa could see the healing scars on his back where he was stabbed by several different tributes, somehow managing to survive the attack. She'd had to muffle her screams into a pillow, her tears wetting the fabric. After her shoes off, Sansa climbed on the bed to sit behind him on her knees. Hesitating for only a moment, Sansa finally reached out and curled herself around him, pressing her hands over his heart and laying her cheek between his shoulder blades. Jon sighed and the tension slowly leeched from his muscles as he leaned back into her embrace.

“I watched them die,” he said roughly, his voice hoarse with disuse. “I had blood on my hands for days. I still see it there.”

Sansa pressed kisses along his heated skin, knowing that there was nothing else she could do.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her tears slipping down her cheeks and onto his back. “I’m so sorry.”

She hated her city. All of the people around her. She despised the very games that gave her fame and wanted nothing but death for the people who forced this to happen to such a good man. Sansa was his age, and perhaps that was why she grew so close to him in their short time together.

“I can’t go back. I can’t look at the people of my district," Jon said, sounding so far past miserable that Sansa didn't even know what he was feeling. "It should have been Alys who returned, not me. I’m an orphan. No one cares what happens to me. I should have died in that arena.”

“Shh,” she hushed him, tilting his chin so that she could look into his eyes. “Don’t say that.”

Jon stared back at her, the haunted look still in his dark grey eyes.

“What do I do now?” he asked helplessly, desperate for her to tell him.

Sansa leaned in, pressing her lips to his softly. He clutched at her, pulling her around to straddle his lap without breaking the kiss. She opened her eyes as she leaned away for a moment, stroking her hands through his dark hair.

“You stay with me. I won’t leave you.” Sansa whispered.

Jon did not have to voice his agreement. He simply crushed her to him, almost painfully embracing her as he covered her mouth with his once more. Sansa allowed him this, knowing that there would be no true comfort for him. He stripped her slowly, careful in his movements even in the midst of his grief. She opened herself to him willingly, sighing as he pushed into her. He buried his face in her hair, thrusting into her deeply as their mingled sounds of pleasure filled the air. When he turned them over, Sansa moved above him, her hands braced on his chest. As soon as she saw the tears on his cheeks, she kissed them away. He spilled inside of her after she found her release. When they finally managed to separate long enough to get under the blankets, he curled his body around hers and laid his head on her chest. Sansa murmured reassurances in his ear, hoping that one day he might believe her when she said that she loved him.

Hoping that one day, the ghosts might leave them be.


	49. Canon AU - Sansa is stressed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I don't make love to you because i want a baby, i want a baby, because i love you"

On the sixth day of his wife’s confinement, Jon was desperate. He was the King in the North, a legitimized Targaryen and the Dragon Queen’s nephew, but he was not above begging his good friend and the maester of Winterfell for word on her condition.

“She’s ill, Your Grace,” Sam said simply, bustling about the library as he picked out books.

“With what symptoms, Sam?" Jon sighed, following him around with an exasperated expression. "And call me Jon, as I have told you dozens of times.”

His long time friend turned towards him, a wary expression on his face.

“There are many burdens on the queen’s shoulders, Jon. She must cope with these things and it might take time.” Sam said cryptically.

“What burdens? I only want to help.” Jon said, tugging on his curls with frustration.

It did not help that the bronze crown was heavy on his head where it had been his brother’s, no... his cousin’s before. The ruins of the First Men reminded him that he was the blood of the North, not just of the dragons.

“They are a woman’s burdens," Sam said in a hushed voice, his maester's chains clinking together as he sat with a pile of books before him. "She’s had her moon blood.”

Jon leaned over on the writing desk, bracing his hands on the wood. He knew that it was an intimidating gesture and even his friend was not unaffected by his stern expression. He wanted answers and he was not above using his powerful station to get them, though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Sansa is my wife, Sam. I cannot help her unless I know what ails her,” Jon said in a low voice.

Sam looked up at him, looking like he was cracking under the pressure.

“Your aunt writes to her, Jon. She wants to know when she will have an heir. We are far away from the southern court but their whispers reach even here. Everyone wonders if the queen is barren or if you have taken a mistress because she turns you away from your bed. You do spend quite a bit of time with the Lady Val.”

Jon let out a growl of frustration, pacing back and forth in the space. He tugged at the collar of the fine doublet that Sansa had stitched for him herself, trying to stamp down his fury.

“I would never do that.”

“I know that you wouldn’t, Jon,” Sam said, his voice getting higher pitched as it always did when he was stressed. “But the southern nobles do not know you as well. And the ones in the North love their queen and they are frighteningly loyal to her. Everyone watches closely for her belly to swell and it is getting to her. Each time she gets her moon blood, she weeps. It is hurting her heart to know that she has not given you a child yet.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking at his friend with a clenched jaw.

“What do I do? How do I help her? I don’t give a damn about my aunt or the nobles in the South. It does not bother me that we do not have children. How do I ease Sansa’s worries?” Jon asked desperately.

Sam looked at him for a few moments, sitting in silence as he considered his desperate query.

“Talk to her,” he finally answered.

“And say what?” Jon wondered.

“The truth, Jon. Tell her what you told me, only with less intimidation. There is a chance that the more she stresses about this, the less likely that she will ever have a child. The body reacts to a sad mind in ways that might surprise both of you. If she is putting this much pressure on herself, it might be preventing your seed from taking root.” Sam said reluctantly, averting his eyes.

He sighed, nodding in agreement.

“You think that this will work?” Jon asked.

“I pray that it will, Jon. For her sake.” Sam said gravely.

He left the library soon after, crossing the courtyard towards the Great Keep to visit his wife’s chambers. When he saw her chief lady-in-waiting hurrying towards him, it gave Jon pause.

“What is it?” he asked, seeing the panic in her eyes.

“The queen has gone, Your Grace. She took her horse and left the castle,” Lady Rose said with wide eyes.

Jon looked at the stables with a frown to see their guards looking stunned and wary at his appearance in the yard. He did not say anything to the lady, hurrying over to them.

“What happened?”

“The queen refused our company, Your Grace. She threatened to ban us from Winterfell if we followed and then she left on her horse.”

Jon felt like shouting, something that he hardly ever did.

“Get my horse saddled. Now,” he said in a tight voice, rubbing at his beard.

This day was getting worse and worse with every passing moment.

“Should we come?” one of the Kingsguard asked.

Jon gave him a furious look, causing him to take a step back as Satin hurried towards him with Longclaw and his sword belt.

“No.,” he said simply, shoving his crown into Satin’s hands.

Once he had his sword in place, he mounted his horse. Then he was off, setting his horse to a gallop before he even made it out of the gates of the keep. The people of the winter town scattered, shouting their compliments to him as he flew by. As soon as he was out of the town, Jon slowed his horse and scanned the green landscape for any sign of his wife. When he saw a stream of red hair and a flash of grey fabric atop a pure black horse heading for the wolfswood, Jon took off once more. He followed her at full speed, unwilling to let her disappear into the wood before he could closed the distance between them. She had a good horse, one that could go as fast as his. But Jon was a better horseman, quickly catching up to her with simple maneuvers.

“Sansa!”

She did not reply to his shout, aiming her horse on the path that led into the woods. Jon followed stubbornly, unwilling to let her lose him. They both tore through the trees, careless of the unstable path, though it could do significant damage to their horses. When his stallion began to tire, he knew that Sansa’s horse was no better off. Sure enough, she slowed down quite a bit until her horse was trotting. Both animals breathed heavily and snorted loudly, quite displeased with their masters. Jon simply patted his stallion's neck as he tossed his head and snorted angrily, slowing him down to a walk when Sansa did. They reached a clearing and she stopped entirely, turning her horse to face Jon. In his opinion, she looked as beautiful as he’d ever seen her, except when they were in their bed and she was completely bared to his sight. Her hair was a tangled mess, falling around her shoulders in fiery waves. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were lit up with defiance. She wore little else than a plain woolen gown and riding boots. Yet she still looked more beautiful than any woman in the seven kingdoms, to his eyes.

“Why did you follow me?” Sansa demanded.

Jon dismounted his horse without answering, leading him to go to the small pond for a cool drink. He walked to her, holding his hands up with an expectant look. She hesitated for a moment, looking as though she might refuse him before she finally allowed him to help her off. Her horse quickly joined the other at the pond, just as frustrated with her rider.

“I have been worried for you,” Jon said, cupping her face in his hands.

Sansa’s lip wobbled and she let her head fall as tears gathered in her eyes. Jon thought that she might seek comfort in his embrace but she stepped away from him, turning her back so that he could not see her face.

“I have failed you, Jon,” she said in a hushed tone, her voice breaking on his name.

“You have not,” he said, not wanting to hear such things.

Sansa shook her head, her shoulders shaking with sobs as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to sort it out.

“I have heard what they say,” she said, turning back to face him with tears falling freely down her porcelain cheeks. “I should have already born children for you. Yet my belly has yet to swell and I fear that it never shall.”

Jon reached out towards her but she stepped away, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“Sansa, listen to me. I don’t care about any of that,” he said, refusing to allow her to shut him out.

She let out a doubtful noise.

“I don’t. I love you and that is what matters to me. I would love any children that may come of our marriage but I do not resent you for the fact that we have none yet,” Jon tried to assure her.

Sansa looked up at him, her blue eyes made even brighter by the tears in them.

“And if I am barren?” she choked out.

“Then the gods have seen fit to make it so and I will not question their will,” Jon said simply.

Her face looked like she was wavering between breaking down again and pulling herself together.

“You lie with me so often. I thought that…”

Jon realized what she conclusions she must have drawn by his eagerness to join her in the marriage bed. He moved towards her, shaking his head as he put his hands on her cheeks once more.

“Sansa, you must believe me when I say this. I do not make love to you because I want a child,” he said in a soft voice as her hands rose and her fingers wrapped around his wrists. “I want a child and a family, and I want it with you. But I only want all of that because I love you so much. I do not measure your worth to me as a womb. You are worth so much more than what you can give me. I only want to make you happy.”

She trembled in his arms, allowing him to embrace her. Sansa pressed her face into his leather jerkin, her tears wetting the material.

“I want a child so badly, Jon. I want to give you a family,” she sobbed.

He hushed her, kissing her head before pulling her away.

“It will happen in time, Sansa. I am certain of it. Until it does, we will just have to be patient and do everything in our power to make it happen.” Jon said, his eyes sparkling with suggestion.

Sansa laughed through her tears, knowing exactly what he meant.

“You still desire me, husband?” she asked, looking up at him with genuine concern that he would say no.

“The world will stop turning before I stop desiring you, my love,” Jon assured her.

She let out a relieved breath, wiping her tears away before leaning up to kiss him deeply.

“If we are to do everything in our power to have a child,” she said, a wry smile on her face as she pulled away. “We must start now.”

Jon looked at her with a raised eyebrow as she began unbuttoning his jerkin.

“Here?” he asked.

Sansa nodded with her lower lip caught between her teeth.

“Here,” she confirmed.

Jon grinned and began unlacing her gown eagerly.

*****

He thought that he had seen her at her most beautiful, but Jon never truly imagined how she would look heavy with their child. If he could, he would do nothing but worship her body day and night. But he still had kingly duties, especially when she was unable to run the household with as much attention as she normally did. Every spare moment was spent with her, such as this one. Sansa sat before the fire in her solar, her head tilted back against her chair and her eyes closed contentedly. Jon was on his knees before her, his hands on her curved belly and his forehead resting against it as well. Her hands were in his hair, stroking the dark curls gently as she let a lazy smile form on her face.

“I will teach you many things. Sword-fighting and riding and how to shoot a bow and arrow,” he murmured to their unborn child, his voice low and deep.

“What makes you think that it will be a boy?” Sansa asked, looking down at him with an arched brow.

He grinned up at her, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I do not care whether it is a boy or a girl. The blood that runs in our child’s veins is the same that ran through Arya’s. Do you think that it is out of the question for a daughter of ours to have the same wild tendencies?” Jon said, making Sansa laugh lightly.

It made him smile wider. A lot of time had passed before they could talk of their family without growing sad. Now they could speak of them in a happy manner, able to remember all of the good memories.

“It would be my comeuppance, wouldn’t it? Arya would have laughed for days if she was around for such a daughter to be born to us,” Sansa said with a small smile.

“And yet she would be loved,” Jon said confidently, stroking her belly.

His wife and queen nodded in agreement, smiling down at him.

“That she would.”

Only days later, she felt her pains in the middle of the night. Jon disregarded tradition and sat behind her as she brought their children into the world. Sansa was between his legs, sagging against his chest between pushes and squeezing his hand as tightly as she could when guttural screams tore their way out of her chest. As it turned out, they were both right and wrong at once. It was not one child in her belly, but two, a boy and a girl born only minutes apart. As they grew, Eddard and Lyra took to one of their parents, though they loved both equally. Little Ned was Sansa in spirit, though he was Jon in looks, whle Lyra had her father wrapped around her small finger from the moment that she was placed in his arms. He taught both of them to fight, whereas Sansa taught them the ways of court and the politics that often escaped their father. More children came later, giving them a rather large and happy family that would one day birth the kings of the North and the South.

Thus the Starks endured.


	50. Modern AU - Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lady and Ghost like each other and force their humans to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few lines of this are shamelessly taken from the West Wing, because I wanted to.

Sansa gasped when she saw Lady dart ahead of her. Usually, her dog was much better behaved, keeping up at her side as she jogged down the sidewalk. It was a daily ritual. They would leave the apartment and run to the park, where Sansa would throw a ball for Lady for several minutes before they jogged back. Lady was used to it, which was why she could not imagine why her dog would act this way.

“Lady!” she shouted, sprinting after her.

Luckily, she seemed to be headed for the parking lot of her apartment complex. When she saw a white streak tearing across the lot, Sansa realized what made Lady run so quickly. The two dogs met in the middle, sniffing at each other excitedly with wagging tails.

“Ghost!” she heard a man’s voice yell just as she reached them.

A rather attractive man around her age darted towards them, a panicked look on his face. Sansa was breathing too heavily after her sprint to speak but she simply waved at him when he reached the two dogs.

“It looks like they’ve made fast friends,” he commented, watching as Lady licked his dog’s face happily.

Sansa simply nodded, bending over to put her hands on her knees. She wished that she had enough breath to speak but she was still attempting to catch it. He looked understanding, reaching out to pat his dog.

“Sorry,” she finally gasped out, straightening up once more. “I’m Sansa.”

She reached out her hand to shake his, giving him a smile. Sansa suddenly regretted that she had just finished her morning exercise, knowing that she must have looked like a sweaty mess.

“Jon,” he said, brushing an errant dark curl away from his forehead with one hand as he shook hers with the other.

Sansa could figure out that he was new to the apartments, both by his car full of boxes and the fact that she’d never seen him before.

“Are you new to town?”

He nodded, shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“I moved for work.”

Sansa smiled at him, feeling a lick on her hand. She glanced down, expecting it to be Lady and taken by surprise when it was the other dog.

“Ghost likes you too,” Jon said with a slight smile.

She grinned, scratching at the pure white dog’s ears.

“He’s beautiful,” Sansa said, bending down to allow him to lick her face enthusiastically.

Jon smiled as well, nodding at her.

“Yours is as well,” he said when Lady brushed against his legs. “Does she enjoy running around here?”

“She loves it. There’s a park nearby where I take her every day to run around.” Sansa said with a smile.

He looked at her curiously.

“Do you mind taking us there one day? Ghost loves parks and I need a place to let him run around. I used to have a big property where he could but now…” Jon gestured back at the apartment and she immediately understood.

“How about you join us for our run tomorrow? Lady and Ghost probably wouldn’t mind playing together,” Sansa suggested, hardly able to believe that she was being so forward with him.

In the back of her mind, a small voice reminded her that she had a boyfriend, though she hadn’t even seen Joffrey in a week and a half.

“I’d like that. We’d like that,” Jon nodded with a grin.

“Great!” Sansa said, suddenly glad that her dog had chosen that day to act so oddly. “See you tomorrow, Jon.”

She pulled Lady away with a wave, looking forward to her run the next day.

*****

They quickly fell into a routine, growing closer to each other for several reasons. Sansa quickly learned that he worked at the police station, coincidentally partnered with her brother since Robb’s old partner moved away. Her prediction turned out to be right. Lady and Ghost loved playing with each other in the park and she enjoyed having someone to run with. Especially since her companion was rather easy on the eyes. She managed to make it four months before the inevitable run-in with Joffrey. Jon knew about her boyfriend, though he hadn’t met him, quite on purpose if she was being honest. They did not talk about it much, only when Sansa happened to mention him in passing. One day after their run, Jon walked Sansa up the stairs to her second level apartment as they both laughed over a story he told about Robb. Joffrey was waiting by her door, an angry look on his face. Sansa’s smile fell as soon as she saw him, filling with dread as she glanced between him and Jon warily.

“Is this why you’ve been ignoring me? Too busy flirting with random guys?” Joffrey demanded.

“It’s not… Jon’s a friend. We’re only running together,” she assured him, passing over the comment about ignoring him.

He wasn’t altogether wrong, though Sansa wasn’t going to admit that to either man.

“You’re cheating on me now, then?”

She sighed, shaking her head as she approached Joffrey, wanting to get him inside so that he wouldn’t cause a scene.

“Joff, you know I wouldn’t do that. Let’s go inside and I’ll make us breakfast,” Sansa said, trying to push him towards her door.

He was glowering at Jon and, were she not afraid of what she would see, Sansa would have turned to look at what look Jon was giving in return.

“Sansa, are you all right?” he asked, concern in his voice.

She knew why. Robb had opened his big mouth and complained about Joffrey and a certain bruise she’d had on her face a few months before Jon moved into town. Sansa knew that her brother only wanted to make sure that she was safe, and that Robb knew that Jon was in a good position to make sure that Joffrey wasn’t hurting her, but it still annoyed her.

“Why don’t you just back off?” Joffrey snapped, stepping towards him.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Jon fired back.

Lady and Ghost were not unaffected by the confrontation, both of them growling at Joffrey. Sansa put herself between him and Jon, looking at them both pleadingly.

“Stop it,” she said quietly.

When Joffrey finally stepped away and took the keys from her hand, Sansa turned to Jon.

“I’ll talk to you later, all right?” she asked.

He looked at her warily, as if he wasn’t too sure that he wanted to leave her with Joffrey.

“Yeah, all right,” Jon nodded finally, turning to walk off.

Ghost remained behind for a moment, blinking up at Sansa. She reached out to scratch his head before pushing him towards Jon, who called for him. When she went inside, bringing Lady with her, Sansa almost wished that she’d followed Jon as well rather than going into her apartment with Joffrey.

*****

After the confrontation with Joffrey, things were sufficiently awkward between her and Jon. They still went on their runs for a while, but they were uncomfortably silent and eventually they tapered off without either of them having to speak about it. Sansa did not answer anyone’s questions about what happened, not wanting to speak about it. Really, she was beyond hurt and pissed that Joffrey managed to come between her and the best thing that had happened to her in a long time. She wanted a chance to make it right with Jon, and that chance came rather quickly though in an unexpected way. She was grateful that the car accident only left her with a sprained ankle, but it was still quite annoying that she had to go to the hospital to get it checked.

Sansa knew that Robb was with Roslin that night and didn’t want to bother him. Jon was out of the question since they hadn’t talked in weeks. So Joffrey was the only option that she had to drive her home. It took three separate calls for him to finally answer. He acted as though she asked him to do something completely insane, complaining even as he agreed to come to get her. Sansa knew how long it should take him to get to the hospital, which was why she was confused when it took him an hour and a half longer than expected. She was stuck sitting outside on a bench with her crutches next to her and the air around her growing colder by the second. When he finally pulled up, music blasting from his car, she was more than angry.

“What the hell?” she demanded as he stepped out.

“What?” Joffrey shrugged, walking towards her with a careless expression on his face.

Sansa glowered at him, struggling to push herself to her feet with the help of the crutches. He didn’t bother trying to help her.

“It’s almost been two hours since I called you,” she said accusingly.

“I was supposed to meet some guys for beers at a bar. I had to stop and tell them I wasn’t going to be able to stick around,” Joffrey said.

Sansa narrowed her eyes as she hobbled towards him. It only took her a few moments to smell the alcohol on his breath.

“How many beers did you have when you stopped by the bar?”

“What are you, my mom?” Joffrey scoffed.

She shook her head, cursing inwardly.

“Just go,” Sansa snapped, moving away from him once more.

“Are you kidding? I drove all the way here to pick you up,” Joffrey said angrily.

She glared at him, sitting down on the bench once more.

“Go have your damn beers or whatever else you want to do. I don’t want you here,” she shot back.

He let out a string of curses as he climbed back behind the wheel of his car and sped off. Fighting back tears, Sansa reached for her phone and dialed the only person she knew would come to get her now.

“Jon?” she said when he answered, her voice small.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sensing her distress.

Sansa almost began sobbing at the concern in his voice.

“I’m at the hospital. I got in a car accident and hurt my ankle. I can’t drive and I need someone to come get me,” she explained, trying to keep her hysterics under control.

Jon did not question why she called him or complain that he had other stuff to do.

“I’ll be right there.”

Sansa sat on the bench waiting, tears streaming down her face as she realized how stupid she’d been. He pulled up not even fifteen minutes later, jumping out of his car with his face twisted into a grimace.

“Are you all right?” he asked, obviously asking about her tears more than the injury.

She only shrugged, reaching for her crutches. Jon beat her to it, helping her up and to the car so that she could lean on him.

“Thank you,” Sansa whispered, feeling ashamed and grateful all at once.

“It’s no problem,” Jon brushed off, gently placing her in his car before going back for her crutches and purse.

They both remained silent on the drive to the building. When they arrived, Sansa looked at the stairs that led up to her apartment, her face almost crumpling when she realized that she would have to make it up to them if she wanted to get to her home.

“Maybe you can stay in my apartment for a couple of nights until your ankle feels better,” Jon suggested.

Sansa looked at him with disbelief, hardly able to believe that he was being so kind to her.

“Lady…” she began.

“I’ll go get her, bring her down. If that’s all right,” he shrugged.

She simply nodded with a smile, wanting to hug and kiss him all at once for being so incredibly sweet. Once he helped her into his house and sat her on the couch, Sansa handed her keys over to him. When he left, Ghost walked over to her and put his head in her lap, looking up at her almost sadly.

“I’ve missed you too, boy,” Sansa sighed, rubbing at his head.

Lady bounded in excitedly when Jon brought her down, yipping happily as she reunited with Ghost. Sansa watched them wrestle around on the floor with a small smile as Jon made coffee in his kitchen.

“Can I ask you something?” he said as he walked into the living room and handed her a cup made just how she liked it.

“You rescued me from staying on a hospital bench all night, Jon. You can ask me anything you want,” Sansa said, sipping at the hot liquid.

He looked at her warily as he sat on the other end of the couch.

“Why did you call me? Why not Robb or…” Jon trailed off.

Sansa sighed, setting her coffee cup aside.

“I called Joffrey,” she said, knowing that was who he really meant.

“He wasn’t available?” Jon asked, his mouth twisting into a scowl at the thought that her boyfriend didn’t bother to pick her up when she called him.

“Yes and no. He was supposed to meet friends for a drink and he stopped by to tell them that he couldn’t stay. I guess they were more convincing than me because he showed up two hours later with beer on his breath.”

Jon looked even angrier, his eyebrows knitting together.

“He’s a dick,” he finally said.

Sansa let out a teary laugh, nodding in agreement.

“You’re not wrong,” she admitted.

Jon looked over at her, gently pulling her legs into his lap.

“You should keep it elevated,” he informed her quietly.

Sansa nodded, biting her lip as she looked back at him. They remained quiet for several minutes, just watching each other as their dogs played around.

“If you were in an accident again, I wouldn’t stop for a beer,” Jon finally said.

Sansa knew what he was trying to say. That she should be with him and not Joffrey. She thought she might have loved him for it.

“If you were in an accident, I wouldn’t stop for red lights,” Sansa said honestly.

Jon gazed at her for long few moments before finally leaning in, pressing his lips softly to hers. Sansa responded eagerly, curling her fingers into his dark hair and forgetting about the dull throbbing in her ankle as they kissed and kissed. Jon sighed when he pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers.

“It took us way too long to do that,”

Sansa nodded in agreement.

“Hand me my phone?” she asked.

Jon did so without question, though he was clearly curious. Sansa shot off the text quickly, knowing that Joffrey deserved nothing more than the clipped message informing him of the end of their relationship.

“What was that?” he asked when she set it down.

“Something I should have done a long time ago. Now come here,” she said, pulling him towards her for another kiss.


	51. Canon AU - Outside POV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> five times Jon/Sansa reminded Cat or her and Ned and one time they reminded Ned of him and Cat (or vice versa)

**I**

The first time, Catelyn had to look twice when she saw the two small figures playing in the courtyard. Little Sansa looked much like Catelyn did as a child. Her bright hair formed a beautiful contrast against the pure white snow. The other figure was as dark as her husband and there was no denying that he was a Stark through and through, though he bore the name Snow. Jon was Ned in miniature, carefully helping Sansa erect a small version of Winterfell in the cold powdery substance. Sansa was gazing at him adoringly and Cat was quite certain that it was the first time she had ever seen her daughter giving him such a look.

Robb got those bright looks all the time, but never the bastard. Catelyn clenched her hands in her skirts, watching as Sansa picked her doll up where it lay forgotten on the ground. Her daughter held it out to Jon with a pleading expression but he looked hesitant, glancing around with uncertainty before taking it from her. Catelyn gasped when he popped the head off of her favorite toy but Sansa cheered, clapping happily before taking it from him only to shove it down on a stick and prop it on the one of the walls of the small castle. Sansa threw her arms around Jon’s shoulders, giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek that had him smiling widely as she leaped up to shake the snow from her skirts.

“Mama! Mama!” she yelled, running towards her.

Catelyn bent down as much as her pregnant belly allowed, embracing Sansa warmly.

“Look! It’s Winterfell with a giant’s head on the wall! Look!” she said excitedly, pointing at their creation.

She nodded, mumbling that she saw it.

“It’s beautiful,” Catelyn said approvingly, turning her to walk inside.

“Thank you Jon!” Sansa called over her shoulder, making him smile wider.

She steered her daughter away quickly, despising how much they looked like her and Ned.

**II**

The next time, they were older. Catelyn walked slowly into the godswood where Ned had gathered all of the children, including Bran who was gurgling happily on his lap. Robb and Theon were playing with wooden swords and Arya was watching them closely with stars in her eyes. Jon was sitting with Sansa, holding a bundle of blue winter roses and watching as she wound them into a flower crown. While she sang softly, the boy had a contented look on his face as if there was nothing that he would rather be doing. He was patient with her, just like Ned was with Catelyn. Robb often grew tired of Sansa’s games but she wondered if Jon ever would.

“Why aren’t they with Maester Luwin?” Catelyn asked of her husband.

Ned looked up at her, unbothered the sharp edge to her words.

“The man has taken sick. There’s nothing to be done today so I decided to bring them here. I might even let them swim in the hot springs for a while."

She wanted to forbid it but knew that she would have to explain that she didn’t want her daughter anywhere near his bastard. They had enough arguments about it. At that moment, they heard a delighted laugh. Sansa was sitting primly on a boulder with a wide smile on her face and her hands folded primly in her lap. Jon was standing before her holding the crown in his hand as if it was the most valuable thing in the world. He bowed low, holding it out to her. Sansa giggled before nodding her permission. She bent her head down, allowing him to place the crown atop her auburn locks. Jon did so carefully, not wanting to mess up the carefully crafted flowers.

When she lifted her head, Sansa beamed up at him and held up her hands for him to take, letting him pull her up to stand. She twirled around with a flourish, her light blue skirts swirling around her legs before she leaned in to press a long kiss to Jon’s cheek. She skipped off as he flushed and shuffled his feet on the ground, ignoring Robb and Theon’s jests aimed at him. Catelyn could do little but scowl at the sight and turned away, leaving her husband and their children behind in the godswood that would never truly welcome her.

**III**

“She’s beautiful!”

To say that Catelyn was stunned when Ned rode into the courtyard with Robb, Bran, and Jon along with six direwolf pups would be a severe understatement. They all dismounted their horses carefully and the bastard approached her eldest daughter with a pure white wolf in one hand and a light grey one in the other. Sansa took the latter with a grin, stroking her soft head with wonder.

“Oh Jon, thank you,” Sansa breathed as if he'd whelped the pup himself.

He murmured a reply that Catelyn did not hear before bending down to kiss her cheek instead of the other way around. Sansa beamed up at him before reaching up to untie her hair from the ribbon that held it up. Then Sansa bent down, tying it around her new companion's neck, looking quite delighted when the wolf remained perfectly still to allow it.

“She’s a perfect lady,” Jon said, knowing that would please her Sansa.

She smiled up at him, nodding in agreement.

“I think I’ll call her Lady,” she decided happily.

He grinned back, seeming quite thrilled that he helped her with the name. Sansa straightened up, throwing her arms around his neck to press a kiss to his jaw. It was a little too close to his mouth for Catelyn’s comfort, but she could not scold them for it without drawing anyone’s attention. Jon flushed as she backed away, shuffling on his feet in that awkward way that only green boys could.

“What of yours?” Sansa asked, reaching down to scratch his ears.

Jon knelt down as well, looking into his wolf’s red eyes.

“He doesn’t make a sound. He doesn’t even whine like the others.”

Sansa giggled as Jon’s direwolf licked her hand.

“He’s as white as a ghost,” she said, rubbing beneath his chin.

Jon’s eyes lit up and he took her hand in his, nodding in agreement.

“I’ll call him Ghost, then."

They gazed at each other, looking thrilled with their direwolves and with each other.

Yes, they were far too much like Catelyn and her lord husband.

**IV**

King Robert came to Winterfell a determined man and parted in a foul mood, quite upset that he was unable to secure Ned as his Hand or Sansa as his future good daughter. A fortnight after Winterfell was finally emptied of the southron court, her husband sat them all down to speak to them. He explained everything, from his ride to the tower of joy in Dorne to his decision to hide Jon after he promised Lyanna Stark that he would protect her boy. He had lied to everyone for sixteen years. Now they knew the truth. Jon was the true heir to the Iron Throne, not Joffrey. He could raise an army if he wished to take it back.

Catelyn was angry and hurt by her husband’s dishonesty, but not nearly as much as the bastard turned Targaryen prince. He would not even look his uncle in the eye, pacing the Great Hall with a deep frown.

Sansa rose from the seat next to her mother, a concerned look in her eyes. It was she that walked to Jon, not Arya or Robb, who had little idea what to say. The boy, her cousin, glanced up as she neared, a forlorn expression on his face. She reached out towards him without a moment of hesitation, gathering him in her embrace. He clutched her close to him, burying his face in her hair as his body shook with muffled tears. Catelyn felt something deep and affectionate for the boy for the first time, knowing that he needed comforting and hating herself for being unable to provide it, not that he would accept after a lifetime of her refusing to show him even the slightest warmth. She saw herself in her daughter and Ned in the boy once more. She’d comforted her husband in a similar way when they heard of the deaths of his father and brother. They were married only days later.

Sansa leaned back, putting her hands on Jon's cheeks to look into his eyes. They did not hear what she whispered to him but Jon nodded in agreement to whatever she said. As she steered him out of the room, Sansa shot a fiercely protective and angry look at both her mother and father, silently holding them both accountable for their treatment of their nephew. That was when Catelyn realized that they were much more like her and Ned than she thought. They were not seen again that night. In the morning, Catelyn felt little surprise when a maid called on her and brought her to Sansa’s rooms. They were curled beneath her furs together, both in yesterday’s clothing and looking more peaceful than they ever had. Sansa had her back to his chest and their bodies fit together snugly, as if they belonged there. She knew what would happen now.

There was no other choice, for they had been following this path since the very beginning.

**V**

They stood in the godswood before their family and a few other witnesses from Winterfell. The ceremony had to happen now, for war was coming. The dragon queen was invading Westeros and Jon had pledged the armies of the North to her cause. Though it was hurried, that did not mean that the two were any less happy to be wed to each other. Sansa’s face was lit up with delight and even her solemn-faced nephew smiling, unable to stop gazing at her throughout the ceremony. When it came time, the kiss that they shared was sweet and lingering, and the smiles they exchanged as they pulled away were even more so. As they sat on the dais with their hands entwined and their heads bent low to each other, Catelyn looked on with a troubled expression.

What would people say about the siblings turned husband and wife? They were not like the Lannisters. It was much different. They were cousins, in truth. But they were raised together. They never acted as brother and sister, as much as Catelyn now wished that they had. Perhaps if they had been closer as siblings, they would not be married now. She only had herself to blame for that. But she could not go back and change that. They would be bound for the rest of their days in their love and devotion to each other in the sight of the gods. By their grace, her daughter might even be the Queen of Westeros at her husband’s side.

As they danced, Sansa helping her husband through his awkward movements, Catelyn knew that it was a similar scene to her wedding, when she’d almost dragged Ned to the other dancers where he shuffled around with a hesitant expression. Except Jon was smiling and Sansa was laughing, twirling around the floor with him. They loved each other, perhaps as much as she loved her husband. No, it was not too bad for them to be this way. Her daughter could have married much worse, after all.

**VI**

They were called into his daughter’s bedchamber once the ordeal was over. Sansa sat against the headboard amidst clean linens, a brilliant smile on her pale face and a small bundle cradled gently in her arms. Jon was sitting next to her, gazing down at their child with an awed expression.

“Come meet our son,” Sansa said happily, holding out a hand in invitation to them both.

They obliged, gathering around the bed to see the little boy with dark hair like his father’s dusting his head and blue eyes that would most certainly turn out like his mother's

“Eddard,” Jon said, smiling as his boy wrapped his small hand around his fingers.

“He’s beautiful,” Catelyn said quietly.

They both nodded in agreement without looking away from the child that they shared. Ned felt pride welling in his chest as he looked upon the boy that was named after him. If it weren’t for his dark hair, he would have thought that he was looking at Robb when he was born. He drew away, looking up at the mother and father. They gazed at one another now, more devoted than they had ever been, even on their wedding day. If he did not know better, he would have thought that he was looking at an exact image of himself and Catelyn over twenty namedays ago. They were so like himself and his wife. Ned's greatest wish for them was that they had the happy marriage that he’d experienced with his Tully bride.

“Little Prince Ned,” Arya said with a smile.

“Someday to be King Eddard, the First of his Name and Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms,” Sansa agreed with a smile, pulling Jon in to kiss him deeply.

Their son let out a squeal and they all looked down at him, laughing as he looked up at his mother and father with waving arms.

“You will be a wonderful mother and father,” Catelyn said confidently, leaning into her husband’s embrace.

Jon looked over at her with a surprised yet pleased smile.

“Thank you,” he said honestly.

She simply nodded, giving him a smile in return. Ned glanced at Sansa, who looked quite pleased at the interaction between her mother and her husband. She was so like her mother, but Ned thought that she was like him as well.

“Would you like to hold him, Jon?” Sansa asked.

Jon nodded eagerly, taking their son into his arms with a smile. She leaned her head onto his shoulder, watching as their son slowly fell asleep in his father’s arms. They were a happy family, just as Ned hoped that they would be. Perhaps their life would be more peaceful than his and Catelyn’s. He could only hope.


	52. Canon AU - Married + Jealous Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa are together but men still flirt with her a lot so Jon gets jealous.

Sansa glanced about as she stepped out of the Great Hall, though she had little need to do so. She knew exactly where he would be. Lifting her skirts from the ground so that they would not drag through the dirt, she made her way towards the training yard, from which she could hear the sound of steel hitting straw. Sure enough, she saw Jon in the midst of the fenced-in area as she rounded the corner. He held a tourney sword in one hand, slashing at the dummy again and again with a look of frustration. For a moment, Sansa felt as if they were ten years in the past and he was a bastard once more, rather than the Lord of Winterfell at her side. She placed her hands on the fence, watching him for a few minutes before speaking.

“I thought you were done with sulking like this," Sansa said, her voice ringing out clearly. "You have not done so in quite a while."

Jon froze in place, taking a deep breath before turning to face her as he lowered the sword.

“My lady,” he said, bowing to her where he stood.

She narrowed her eyes at him, pushing the gate open to step inside.

“Don’t do that, Jon.”

He looked up at her with a raised eyebrow as he straightened up.

“Is that a command?”

Sansa frowned at him, disliking when he was in such an ill mood. His tongue never grew more sharp than when he nursed such anger close to his heart.

“You are my husband, not my subject."

Jon huffed, tossing the sword onto the rack nearby.

“Your subjects seem rather familiar with you,” he said, turning his back to her as he replaced the dummy where he found it.

At his words, Sansa immediately caught onto what made him slip away from the feast.

“I am their lady, Jon," she sighed, wringing her hands together. "I have to keep their favor and their loyalty through many different means, one of which includes dancing."

He looked at her over his shoulder, a glint in his eyes that showed his displeasure at her words.

“And must you act as if they delight you so?” Jon said darkly.

“I am their host, just as you are. We are the Starks of Winterfell, Wardens of the North and the blood of the First Men. It is up to us to lead these people and inspire their love for us and our children, and our children’s children and so on.” Sansa reminded him.

He shook his head, turning to face her fully.

“I don’t like it. I don’t like the way that they look at you when you cross the room or how they presume to touch you when you dance. They act as though they are starving men and you are a meal waiting to be devoured," Jon ranted furiously, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

Sansa let out a sigh as she drew nearer to him.

“That is what it is to be a woman, Jon. I cannot discourage their actions without causing offense,” she said, reaching out to place her hands over his upper arms. “That is why I need my strong, handsome, brave husband in there with me to protect me from their lewd gazes.”

His mouth twitched as his eyes softened and she knew that she almost had him.

“I am yours, Jon. Just as you are mine. The longer you spend away from my side, the more those men will wrongly assume that you do not satisfy me. They will think that I need someone else.”

Jon let out a growl, pulling her in close to her with his hands gripping her hips.

“No one else may have you,” he said in a low voice.

Sansa reached up, threading her fingers through his hair.

“Show me,” she whispered, quite liking it when he was jealous.

His dark eyes and rough voice never failed to send heat thrumming throughout her body. Jon captured her lips in an almost painful kiss as their bodies melded together. If Sansa was not certain that they would be caught, she would be tempted to let him take her in this very yard.

“Jon, the guests,” she whispered against his lips.

“Fuck the guests,” he mumbled, kissing down to her throat.

Sansa let out a cross between a laugh and a moan at the expletive.

“We must tell them something. We cannot just disappear,” she breathed.

Jon did not answer, nipping at her collarbone as she arched towards him.

“They’ll figure it out,’ he said confidently before pulling her towards the keep.

Sansa smiled slightly, not bothered one bit by his rush. Jon was right, the guests would figure it out. She would not wait either. She had her husband’s jealousy and desire to take advantage of… hopefully more than once. They hurried into the Great Hall, attracting everyone’s attention as Jon pulled her through by her hand. Sansa stopped just before they made it to the door, making him growl loudly enough so that several lords and ladies around them stepped back with shocked and appalled looks upon their faces.

“Good night, lords and ladies. My husband has need of me,” Sansa said with a curtsy, not bothering to hide the suggestion in her voice.

Jon wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her out of the room as she let out a breathless giggle that seemed to echo through the Great Hall even after they were gone. Everyone stared around in surprise, still trying to make sense of the scene they just saw between their usually solemn lord and his demure lady wife.


	53. Modern AU - Christmas Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas time with the Starks after Jon been away for years, and he notices that Sansa has truly grown up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of domestic abuse and miscarriage

Jon knocked on the door hesitantly, feeling quite uncertain about coming to this place full of memories. As far as he knew, from all that Robb told him, this was the first time in years that the Starks would be together for Christmas. But his best friend had been insistent on having him there when he found out that Jon had nowhere else to go. He tried to decline, but it was no use. The door flew open only moments after he knocked and Arya stood there, grinning at him as if nothing at all had changed. He smiled back, stomping the snow off of his boots so that he wouldn’t track it into the house.

“Well come in," she said with a roll of her eyes as she reached out to drag him in. "Everyone’s waiting."

Jon felt a blast of warmth as soon as the door shut and sighed with relief, unwrapping the scarf from around his neck.

“How is it going so far?” he asked Arya, pulling her into a hug.

She squeezed him back tightly before moving away to open the coat closet for him.

“Good. Mom hasn’t started lamenting over the no grandchildren thing yet,” Arya said with a grin, taking his coat from him when he slid it off.

“She probably doesn’t want to scare Robb’s new girlfriend off."

Arya rolled her eyes again, reminding him so much of the little girl that he once knew, all scraped knees and tangled hair.

“Have you met Margaery? I’m pretty sure that nothing and no one can scare that girl off,” she said, shaking her head.

Before they entered the living room, Arya paused for a moment and her smile faltered.

“But she’s good with Sansa. She makes her smile, which isn’t all that easy anymore.”

Jon frowned, wondering what she meant by that. He hadn’t seen Sansa in three years but the girl he remembered was quick to smile, always lighting up a room from the moment that she walked in. She didn’t have much time for her brother’s friend from the other side of town. It’s not that she was stuck up or thought herself better than Jon, but her attention was almost constantly taken up by her friends and her boyfriend. Jon briefly wondered if she was still with Joffrey Baratheon. He sincerely hoped that she wasn’t, since he did not want to deal with that tonight. When he stepped into the living room behind Arya, he was relieved to see that there were no blonde pricks in the room.

“Jon!” Robb exclaimed with a grin, standing up to walk to him.

They hugged quickly, thumping each other’s backs before pulling away.

“You haven’t met Margaery, have you?”

Robb stepped away from him to bring a smiling woman forward, their hands clasped together. She was beautiful, but Robb’s girlfriends always were.

“I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to put a face to the name,” Margaery said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Same here,” Jon nodded at her as he fitted his hand over hers.

After giving Catelyn a quick kiss on the cheek and a hug, shaking Ned’s hand, and messing with Bran and Rickon, his eyes fell on Sansa. She was curled on the couch and staring off into the fire. Jon could not help but stare at her with a furrowed brow. He remembered seeing pictures of Christmas at the Stark house and had been invited to a few of the family dinners before. From what he remembered, Sansa always wore the prettiest of dresses with her hair and makeup styled to perfection. Looking at her now, he almost thought that she was an entirely new person. Not that she wasn’t beautiful, because there was no way she could ever not be, but she looked different in the oversized dark grey sweater, black leggings, and fuzzy socks. Her hair flowed around her shoulders in auburn waves, loose and simple.

“Sansa?”

She looked up when her mother spoke her name, her eyes flitting over the others before she caught sight of the newcomer.

“Oh, Jon,” Sansa breathed out, looking surprised that he was there.

She rose from the crouch in one quick, graceful motion. Jon expecting an awkward greeting as she walked towards him so he was somewhat surprised and yet rather pleased when she gathered him into a warm hug.

“It’s good to see you again,” she said softly as her arms wrapped around his shoulders.

He wrapped his arms around her back, hugging her gently in return. She smelled like sugar cookies and vanilla soap. Jon remembered that she loved to bake and would almost bet that there was more than one plate of cookies in the kitchen waiting to be devoured.

“You too,” he replied, pulling away to look at her.

She smiled up at him, though he could see that it did not reach her eyes. Arya was right. Jon could hardly recognize her.

“Now that Jon’s here, how about we eat?” Catelyn asked, clapping her hands together with a smile.

Everyone agreed, moving to the dining room where an elaborate variety of foods were laid out.

“This looks amazing Mrs. Stark,” Jon complimented her.

“As much as I would like to take the credit for this incredible meal, that goes to Sansa and Margaery. They were determined to give me the night off this year,” the Stark matriarch said with a smile.

“You deserve it, Mom,” Sansa said, reaching out to squeeze her hand as she took a seat across from Jon.

The conversation started quickly, with everyone catching up on what happened since the last time they were all together. Sansa did not say much, watching everyone else speak with a contented look on her face. Jon might have missed it if he wasn't so aware of Sansa but he caught glimpses of the worried looks that Margaery shot her every so often. She was not the only one.

“Something great happened at her business a few weeks ago. Did you tell them?” Margaery asked after Arya and her boyfriend, Gendry, finished telling them all about the mountain they climbed a few months back.

Sansa flushed and shook her head, lowering her eyes to her plate as if she didn't really want to say anything.

“Some upper east side socialite found out about her bakery and requested a huge order of cookies and a really elaborate cake. They loved it all and promised Sansa that they would spread the word about her,” Margaery bragged on her behalf.

“That’s wonderful, Sansa. What were the cookies and cake for?” Ned asked.

Sansa glanced around at them all carefully before quite clearly forcing a smile to her face.

“A baby shower."

Jon did not fail to notice the way that Catelyn’s smile faltered at her words.

“Well, you might just be opening that second location soon,” Robb said, smiling at his sister without sensing the tension that thickened the air of the room.

She nodded in agreement before taking a long drink of her wine. The rest of the dinner felt quite stilted until they all made their way back to the living room. Sure enough, Sansa brought out three plates of magnificently decorated cookies with a slightly proud smile. Everyone ate them to the last crumb, all voicing their pleasure at the taste. When it got late enough, the family started heading upstairs to rest before Christmas morning the next day. Jon remembered that he left the presents for everyone else in his car and ran out to get them before he forgot about it again. When he came back inside with the stack of wrapped gifts, he saw that every light was off except for the one in the kitchen. He set the presents down and walked in there curiously as he heard someone moving around. When Jon peeked in, he saw Sansa cleaning up the kitchen from the dinner and dessert.

“I’m sure you don’t have to do that,”

She jumped pressing a hand over her heart as she turned to face him.

“Sorry,” Jon said, holding his hands up in surrender.

Sansa just gave him a smile, turning back to her task.

“I don’t like leaving things undone. I won’t be able to sleep,” she said, washing out the wine glasses.

Jon hesitated before moving to her side.

“You wash, I’ll dry?” he suggested, picking up a dishtowel.

Sansa looked up at him with wide eyes, nodding her agreement after a moment of hesitation. They worked in silence for several minutes as Jon tried to search for something to say.

“It’s good that your business is going well,” he finally said, wincing at how odd he sounded, trying to force a conversation.

“Yeah, it’s great,” she said, scrubbing at a plate.

Jon studied her as she worked, unable to reconcile her with the bright girl that he once knew. Sansa did not fail to notice his scrutiny, glancing up at him with warm cheeks.

“What?”

He shrugged, looking away from her.

“You’re just different from how I remember,” Jon said quietly.

Sansa stopped what she was doing, taking a deep breath before setting the plate down and turning off the water.

“Come on,” she said, grasping his arm.

He looked at her with confusion as she pulled him away, grabbing a half-empty bottle of wine and two clean glasses. Jon followed as she walked to the back room where an entire wall was made of windows. There were several couches and chairs as well as television there. It used to be the game room but now it was a gathering place for parties and movie nights. Sansa curled up on a two-person couch, inviting him to sit next to her.

“You’re different too,” she informed him, pouring them wine before handing one of the glasses to him.

Jon did not deny it, knowing that he had changed as well.

“You used to be so shy,” Sansa said, looking over at him. "You don't seem that way anymore. You seem... confident."

There was no trace of the fake smiles on her face now. She was staring at him with a burning gaze as if challenging him to figure her out.

“I try to be,” Jon replied.

She nodded, sipping at her wine.

“Everyone is tiptoeing around me. They think I need to be coddled,” Sansa said in a soft voice.

“Why?” Jon asked curiously.

Her blue eyes met his dark grey ones and he saw a deep sadness within them.

“Joffrey and I broke up in March," Sansa said, her eyes fluttering closed as she let out a shaky breath. "Well, we actually just stopped seeing each other. Dad and Robb caught him hitting me and all hell broke loose."

Jon’s hand tightened around his wine glass at her words. He knew that the Baratheon boy was an asshole but he didn’t think he’d go so far as to hit his girlfriend. He looked at Sansa only see that she was watching him for a reaction.

“I’m guessing he didn’t escape from that unscathed?” Jon asked.

She shook her head, looking out the windows at the falling snow.

“Arya was surprised that Mom didn’t mention grandchildren at all. That’s my fault."

Jon didn't quite know what to say to that so he chose to remain silent. Sansa took it as invitation to continue, rubbing her thumb over the stem of her glass.

“I had a miscarriage, after Joff hit me in the stomach," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Mom is the only one that knows. She took me to the hospital and everything."

He suddenly understood Catelyn’s reaction when her daughter mentioned baking for the socialite’s baby shower.

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” Jon murmured, though he could not understand why she was being so honest with him of all people.

He instinctively reached out to take her hand. Sansa turned to look at him with a pained expression but she didn’t pull her hand away, instead lacing her fingers with his.

“I’m not. That sounds horrible but,” she shook her head, reaching out to set her wine down. “That baby would have had a monster for a father. And I would have been stuck with Joffrey forever. I love babies and children and I’ve always wanted to have a family but not with him.”

Sansa glanced up at him with wide eyes.

“Does that make me a horrible person?”

Jon shook his head quickly.

“No,” he assured her, setting his glass down as well. “You’re not a horrible person. You went through a lot and you came out the other side of it. I'm pretty sure that makes you the strongest fucking person I know.”

Sansa stared at him for a moment before letting out a soft sigh, reaching out to touch his cheek with her hand.

“You’re a good guy, Jon. Why couldn’t I have fallen in love with someone like you?” she murmured, tilting her head to the side.

He reached up to cover her hand with his, realizing that he wanted to see her smile for real. Jon wanted to see her eyes light up and her cheeks flush like they always did before.

“You still can.”

Sansa stared at him for a moment before the corners of her mouth lifted upwards. She looked hesitant to smile for real but when he softened his gaze and gave her a crooked smile, she let the wariness go and beamed at him. Jon felt his heart swell with happiness at seeing her blue eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room.

“I can,” she agreed before leaning in.

Sansa laid her head on his shoulder, curling into his side as his arms wrapped around her. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head as they sat there in comfortable silence. Jon was suddenly quite thankful that his Christmas plans with his father’s family fell through. This was most definitely worth it.


	54. Modern AU - Moving In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon/Sansa moving in together

“Smile!”

He turned his head, simply raising an eyebrow at her. Sansa sighed, lowering the camera with an equally unimpressed look.

“Jon Snow, this is our day and I demand that it should be documented. Now put a smile on that grumpy face of yours, or I will give you something to smile about,” she threatened, looking entirely serious.

Jon sighed, setting down the box in his arms.

“And how do you plan to do that?” he challenged.

Sansa stepped closer to him, setting the camera down onto the very box that he had been holding.

“Are you doubting my abilities?”

“I might be,” Jon replied.

She tilted her head to the side, lifting her hand to play with the curls at the back of his neck.

“You should know better than that,” Sansa chided softly before leaning up to kiss him.

Her lips barely touched his before her lips parted and her tongue swept over his bottom lip. Jon groaned in response, his hands sliding down to her hips to pull her closer. Their boxes sat forgotten as they embraced, their bodies fitting together perfectly.

“Ugh, really?”

They broke apart, their heads turning at once to see Arya walk in with a box of kitchen stuff followed by Robb, who carried a mattress along with Theon.

“Can you keep your hands off of each other for five minutes?” Robb said with a wrinkled nose.

Jon flushed, ducking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck with a slight smile on his face. She took the chance quickly, taking up the camera. The click sounded through the living room of their new house, making Jon look up with surprise.

“Aha!” Sansa said proudly.

“You little—”

She let out a delighted laugh, darting away from him when he lunged for the camera. As her parents walked with boxes as well, they looked on with surprise as they darted about their new home. Sansa hurried down the hallway towards the bedroom, turning to take a quick picture of his elated face before running through the door. Jon tackled her onto the recently settled mattress amidst Robb and Theon's groans, wrestling the camera from her grip and taking a picture of her laughing face as the other two quickly left them to their mischief.

“Got you,” he proclaimed, tossing the camera aside before leaning down to kiss her deeply.

Sansa returned the kiss with fervor, clutching him close with her legs around his waist. When she pulled away, Sansa sighed and ran her fingers through his hair.

“This place is ours, Jon,” she said, smiling at him.

“Are you happy then?” he asked, gazing into her eyes.

Sansa nodded eagerly, unable to keep from letting out a giddy laugh.

“I am happier than I can even describe."

Jon grinned at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“So am I."


	55. Modern AU - nanny!Sansa + dogwalker!Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Jon meet in the park when the child she's nannying runs off to play with the dogs Jon is walking.

Usually her job was easy. Sansa loved the little girl that she looked after every day. But that particular day, nothing was coming easy to her and she just about had enough of it. After a fifteen-minute long tantrum, she was finally getting little Claire an ice cream cone from the cart in the park.

“Here’s your choco—” Sansa turned around and her eyes grew wide as she realized that her charge was nowhere near.

The four-year-old knew better than to leave her side, which made Sansa immediately think the worst.

“Claire!”

She tore after her, seeing her white-blonde hair as she darted through the crowd. Sansa tossed the ice cream to the ground, leaving it forgotten in favor of catching up with the little girl. The crowd around her didn't make it any easier.

“Claire come back!” Sansa shouted, feeling panic rise within her.

She heard a happy bark and a low chuckle just before she broke through the crowd and saw her charge surrounded by dogs. Sansa let out a sigh of relief, hurrying over to her before she got tangled in the leashes.

“I am so sorry,” she said, pulling Claire away from the dogs and their walker. “She loves dogs.”

“It’s all right. I’m the same way, so I can’t really blame her for it.”

Sansa looked up at the man, realizing that he was quite attractive and smiling down at her. Claire slipped out of her arms again, going to the dogs with a delighted laugh.

“Sansa,” she said, smiling back at him.

He nodded, holding onto the leashes tightly as the dogs surrounded her charge.

“Jon,” he replied.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sansa said before wincing as the dogs all tugged on him.

He glanced between her, Claire, and the dogs before making a decision.

“There’s a dog park nearby where we were headed. Maybe you two can come with us and she can throw sticks for them?” Jon suggested.

Sansa knew the place that he was talking about because she took her own dog, Lady, there all the time.

“She would love that,” she replied, lifting Claire into her arms as the young girl struggled to get back to the dogs.

They walked beside Jon towards the dog park.

“I’m guessing nanny, right?”

Sansa nodded in confirmation.

“Are any of these yours?” she asked, glancing at the dogs.

“The white one,” Jon answered. “His name is Ghost.”

The dog in question turned his head at the sound of his name, pink tongue lolling out of his mouth.

“They’re all beautiful,” Sansa acknowledged as they entered the dog park.

“Yeah, I love them,” Jon nodded, releasing them from the leashes to let them run free in the fenced area.

Claire let out a delighted noise, running around with them as Sansa and Jon looked on with unavoidable smiles.

“Thank you for this,” she sighed, realizing that she would have had a hard time with Claire if they were forced to leave the dogs behind.

“Of course. Anything to help out a pretty girl,” Jon said with a smile.

Sansa flushed with pleasure at his words.

“You are very kind, Jon,” she said happily.

He looked at her with raised eyebrows.

“Oh I meant Claire,” Jon said, gesturing to her charge.

Sansa’s smile faltered at his words as she felt disappointment settle in her chest.

“If I was describing her nanny, I would use words like beautiful or stunning because I'm pretty sure that pretty doesn’t begin to cover what you are."

Tossing her head back with a laugh, she nudged his shoulder with her own.

“You are a charmer,” Sansa said teasingly.

“I try,” he shrugged with a small smile.

At that moment, she decided that perhaps this day wasn’t so bad after all. Sansa would really have to thank Claire later for running off, even if the girl would have to get an earful alongside it.


	56. Modern AU - Strangers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mamihlapinatapei - the wordless, yet meaningful look shared by two people who both desire to initiate something but are both reluctant to start

Her commute was just part of the routine by now, right up there with her morning bagel in her small apartment kitchen, the coffee from the cart right above the train station, and the newspaper that she got from the shop that sat just before the turnstiles. Not that Sansa ever got the chance to read it, due to the daily distraction she had to suffer through in the thirty-minute commute to her office. Sure enough, she swiped her subway card and slipped through the barrier, immediately catching sight of him standing in front of her. Sansa averted her eyes when he turned to glance over his shoulder, clearly expecting her.

She took a small sip of her coffee, reading over the name of the newspaper a dozen times to make it look like she was doing something. This was the game that they played, pretending like they didn’t see each other until they got on the subway car. Sansa chewed on her lip as she leaned against one of the pillars, knowing without looking that he was probably staring at his feet or at some spot on the wall. She took a deep breath when she heard the familiar rush of the oncoming train, glancing up in time to rock back on her heels as it slowed to a stop before her.

Without hesitation, she stepped through the doors and took her normal seat in the corner, crossing her legs and waiting. He was always the last on the train, politely waiting for everyone else to step inside before doing so himself. But there was always a seat across from her as if the rest of the passengers were aware of their little game. The doors closed and Sansa lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze immediately. His were beautiful eyes, but not in an obvious way. It took her several weeks to come to that conclusion. They were dark but she could see the steel grey from where she sat. In certain lights, she could almost see a shade of violet.

Neither of them said a word, just staring across the car at one another. Sansa played with a lock of her hair unconsciously, her coffee and newspaper sitting forgotten for the moment. It was an unspoken stubborn streak, neither of them willing to end it but both wanting it to be done with all at once. She wanted to know his name, where he lived, what he did, how his lips felt beneath hers. But she would not be the one to break it. As if he could read her thoughts, the corner of his mouth quirked upwards. Sansa narrowed her eyes, silently daring him to deny that he was as desperate as she was. He shook his head slightly and she took that to mean that he could not deny the truth. She bit down on her bottom lip gently before sweeping her tongue over it, feeling a spark of triumph when his eyes followed the motion and darkened slightly.

Even as the train filled, no one moved between them, like there was a barrier keeping them from standing in the space where they were separated. Minutes passed and they stared, silently conversing. As she did every day, Sansa briefly wondered what his voice sounded like. Perhaps she would never know, if they continued this way. Soon enough, her stop came and she stood, smoothing out her skirt and pretending not to notice when the newspaper fell to the ground. Sansa walked out with her head held high, hurrying up the steps towards the streets of Manhattan along with the other commuters. It wasn’t until she was halfway down Sixth Avenue that she heard a throat clear behind her and a hand caught her arm. She turned her head with surprise, her eyes widening when she saw him smirking down at her.

“You forgot this,” he said, handing the newspaper to her. "It would be awful of me, I think, if I didn't make sure you got it back."

Sansa took it with a slight smile, folding it in half. To her utter delight, his voice was low and just husky enough to be incredibly attractive.

“And if I don’t need it?” she asked, tilting her head to the side.

He took a step back with a shrug, a crooked smile tugging at his lips.

“You never know. You might read something interesting in there.”

Sansa watched him go before shaking her head and glancing down at the paper. Sure enough, she saw a messy scrawl on the front page.

_Maybe you should talk to me tomorrow._

_\- Jon_

She let out a small laugh, continuing on to her workplace as she slipped the newspaper into her purse.

*****

The next day, as Sansa descended the steps into the subway station, she varied her routine with just one small detail. As she walked through the turnstile and saw him waiting, she moved to stand at his side. Jon glanced over at her, a small smile on his face.

“Sansa,” she said, looking back at him. “That’s my name, in case you want to know who beat you.”

His eyebrows rose.

“Beat me?”

She nodded in confirmation.

“I won,” Sansa said proudly.

He bumped his shoulder into hers, his dark grey eyes shining with amusement.

“I’d like to think that we both won.”

She considered that for a moment before nodding once more as the train pulled into the station.

“I can agree with that,” Sansa said as they walked forward at once.

That day, he sat next to her on the subway. Sansa reached down after a moment, slipping her hand into his.

Yes.

This was much better than their game.


	57. Modern AU - Thief/Cop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Art thief au

He woke slowly, feeling a breeze coming through the open window and the blankets covering his unclothed body. There was something else, a sensation that he should be used to by now. It was not a point of pride, having to admit that this was not the first time he wound up here. Jon sighed, opening his eyes reluctantly to see the sun streaming into the room. He heard the sound of water running in the bathroom.

“You know, one of these mornings I could wake up without handcuffs on my wrists. Just to shake things up,” Jon called out.

Her laugh floated out of the bathroom as the door opened. He moved his hands, testing the tightness. They weren’t going to come off. She was too smart for that.

“You know better, Jon Snow,” Sansa said, walking out.

She was in her undergarments and nothing more, her hair braided into a thick rope over her shoulder. His eyes widened when he saw that it was back to her natural color, rather than the dark brown that it was the night before.

“I like it better that way,” he said, nodding at her fiery hair.

Sansa smiled softly, pulling a dark blue dress over her head.

“I know you do,” she said, smoothing out her skirt.

Jon tilted his head to the side as she bent down to zip up her small suitcase.

“Where to now?” he asked.

Sansa gave him a look, clearly avoiding his query.

“The better question is… how is Sam going to react this time when he has to come free you?" she asked teasingly, her eyes sparkling as she grinned at him. "What is it, number seven?”

“Number eight, I think,” Jon replied, unable to keep from smiling too.

She let out another warm laugh, sliding her high heels on.

“You could at least give me a hint about where you’re running off to now."

Sansa turned, climbing onto the bed to straddle his thighs. She cradled his face in her hands, bending down to kiss him deeply. He responded in kind, nibbling at her lower lip and letting out a disappointed groan when she pulled away.

“Where would the fun be in that, Agent Snow?” she murmured, pressing one last soft kiss to his lips before climbing off. “Zanzibar has been rather diverting but I need a change in scenery. I'm sorry to say that you aren’t invited this time.”

Jon knew her well enough to feel quite certain that he _was_ invited, though she would not admit it.

“I think I’ll keep these,” she said, holding up the keys to his handcuffs. “For a memento.”

Jon watched as she slid them into her bra with a wink before gathering her purse and suitcase.

“Stay out of the Vatican,” he warned.

“Oh, I can’t make any promises,” Sansa replied, biting her lower lip before moving towards the door.

Jon sat up a little bit more, not happy to see her leaving yet again.

“Sansa,” he called to her.

She turned to glance at him over her shoulder, staring into his eyes as she gave him one last smile.

“Au revoir, mon amour,” Sansa said softly, blowing a kiss to him before walking out.

Jon sighed, smiling slightly as he let his head fall against the headboard.

“I guess I’m going to France.”


	58. Canon (Pre-Series)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-Canon when the Starklings are still at Winterfell and Sansa asks Jon and Arya to play with her one day (like Knights and Maidens) but they play a prank on her/do something to embarrass her. Then later Jon overhears Sansa crying to Robb or Cat or someone about how she's sad that Jon hates her and never wants to be her knight.

His guilt was overwhelming and clearly written across his face. It had been a harmless trick, or so he thought. Arya came up with the plan and Jon agreed, always finding it hard to deny her. Sansa was used to her younger sister playing pranks, so he thought that she would shrug it off quickly. But when he emerged from his chambers to find Robb scowling at him, Jon knew that something must have gone wrong. He didn’t have the right idea of it and now his conscience was nudging at him. He reluctantly followed his brother to the Great Hall, where the tables were being prepared for their evening meal. Only Sansa was perched on her father’s lap where he sat in the ancient Stark seat. Tears stained her cheeks and her shoulders were trembling as she cried. Robb threw him an accusing look where they hid in the shadows unseen.

“Why does he hate me, Papa?” Sansa cried softly.

“He doesn’t hate you, Sansa,” Ned sighed as he stroked her long hair.

She simply let out a sob, nodding her head.

“He does too!”

Jon knew that she was speaking of him and he felt guilt weighing even heavier his heart.

“Jon never wants to be around me like he does with the others. And he always laughs when Arya plays tricks on me. Today he even agreed to play knights and maidens with me but they left me in the godswood for hours waiting to be rescued!”

Their father frowned at her words.

“That wasn’t right of them,” Ned said, looking troubled.

Jon stepped out of the shadows, closely followed by Robb. Sansa stared at him with wide eyes, almost looking angry that he heard her.

“Sansa, can I talk to you?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at their father yet he remained silent, allowing her to make the decision.

“No!” Sansa said angrily, clambering off of Ned’s lap.

She ran past him, one more soft sob reaching their ears before she was gone. Jon grimaced, looking up at his father for help.

“Arya is a child still, Jon,” Ned said, standing up to walk towards him.

He bent down to put a hand on his shoulder, peering into his eyes.

“Even if she doesn’t know better than to trick her sister like that, you should,” he sighed, clearly disappointed in him.

Jon watched as he walked out, leaving him alone with Robb.

“What do I do?” he asked miserably.

His brother considered it for a moment.

“I’ll help you,” Robb decided, putting a hand on his shoulder to steer him out of the room.

*****

It took them the rest of the afternoon to prepare for his apology. Jon spent quite a bit of time in the glass gardens as Robb handled the kitchens. When they finally met outside of Sansa’s chambers, where she’d taken her evening meal after claiming to be too tired to join her family, he had a tray laden down with the fruits of their efforts.

“Remember, she likes to hear good things. Pretty words will always make her forgive you faster,” Robb instructed him

Jon frowned at him. He had never been good with words, especially not pretty ones.

“Maybe you should apologize for me,” he suggested.

Robb rolled his eyes and brought his fist down on the door twice before taking off down the hall, leaving Jon there feeling quite ridiculous. After several moments, it opened and Sansa stood there looking torn between surprise and annoyance.

“I brought this for you,” Jon said, holding up the tray.

Her eyes flitted over the lemon cakes, bundled flowers, and woven crown made of blue winter roses. Deeming it worthy enough, Sansa stepped aside to admit him to her chambers. Jon sighed with relief, moving inside to set the tray down on a table.

“Why?” she asked, closing the door.

He turned towards her, looking as apologetic as he could.

“I’m sorry for what Arya and I did. I didn’t really think about how it would hurt you and I should have. I hope that you can forgive me,” Jon said honestly, glancing down at his feet.

Sansa remained silent for several moments before letting out a soft sigh.

“I suppose that these will help,” she said quietly.

He looked up with surprise as she picked up a lemon cake and took a small bite.

“You aren’t forgiven yet, Jon,” Sansa said once she swallowed, picking up the bundled flowers.

He said nothing at all, watching as she crossed her room and pulled a bouquet of withered flowers out of a vase, replacing them with the fresh ones that he brought. A small smile formed on his face as he watched her arrange them perfectly until she looked satisfied, the corners of her lips tugging upwards. When she turned to face him, however, her face was cool again.

“I don’t hate you, Sansa. I promise I don’t,” Jon said as she walked towards him.

Sansa stopped short, looking at him with a frown.

“You never want to be around me, Jon,” she said in a small voice as her hands wrung together.

“Only because I don’t think that you want to be around me. You always seem to prefer Robb or Bran,” he said honestly, taking a step towards her.

She considered his words for a moment.

“So we’ve been rather foolish then? Avoiding each other because we’re convinced that the other does not want us around?” Sansa said, smiling slightly.

Jon let out a small laugh, nodding in agreement.

“Very foolish,” he decided.

Her musical laugh filled the room as she walked back over to the table.

“Thank you for this, Jon,” Sansa said before eating another lemon cake.

“It’s the least that I could do,” he shrugged.

Sansa gave him a calculating look before reaching out, picking up the poorly made flower crown with careful hands. Jon watched as she placed it on her auburn locks, smiling at how it matched her dress and eyes so beautifully.

“Since you did not rescue me from the monsters, you should make that up to me,” she said, holding her chin high as she regarded him.

“How might I do that?” Jon asked.

She held her hand out daintily, nodding at him to take it.

“I am going to teach you how to dance,” Sansa decided.

He was certain that his face turned bright red at her words.

“I’m a terrible dancer, Sansa,” Jon choked out.

“Exactly. That is why I shall teach you,” she replied.

Jon staggered towards her as she pulled him to the cleared space of her chamber. He allowed her to situate his hands and followed her soft commands, placing his feet where she told him. Soon enough, they were doing a slow, clumsy imitation of a dance that Jon knew that she could perform perfectly. He would have told her that this was not working, but her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were shining happily. Jon could not deny her that. When she pulled away and curtsied deeply to him, he bowed in return.

“Am I a hopeless case?” Jon asked as he straightened up.

Sansa laughed and shook her head.

“There is hope for you yet,” she decided, turning away from him.

Jon reached out, grasping her hand in his.

“Sansa,” he said, causing her to turn back and look at him.

“Yes Jon?” she said, looking up at him with imploring eyes.

He hesitated before speaking.

“I would be honored to be your knight,” Jon said quietly, ducking his head.

There were several moments of silence before she leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Jon stared at her with wide eyes as she withdrew.

“And I would be honored to be your maiden,” Sansa replied, smiling at him before turning away to eat another lemon cake.

Jon lifted his hand to touch his lips, wondering if it was wrong to find such joy in the small gesture.


	59. Modern AU - Heroes/Villains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superhero AU. Would love to see Supervillain Sansa and Superhero Jon. And Sansa saves Jon's life because she is not all that bad she just got stuck with being seen as "evil" because of Joffrey and Cersei.

His entire body ached as he awoke, stirring slowly only to realize that this bed did not feel right. It was too soft and the pillow beneath his head smelled far too sweet. His eyes fluttered open and he was greeted by a dark room. He tried to push himself up to sit, letting out a groan of pain when he put weight on his injured wrist.

“Oh!”

Jon turned his head at the gasp, his eyes widening in surprise when he saw a figure sitting in a chair near to the bed.

“Who are you?” he asked, squinting at her.

She reached over to the table at the side of the bed, turning on a lamp. Dim light filled the room and Jon stared at her with a furrowed brow, trying to place her pale face.

“You’re injured. You shouldn’t move too far unless you have to,” she said, handing him a glass of water.

He took several long drinks, realizing that his throat was as dry as sandpaper.

“Who are you?” Jon said again.

She sighed and moved forward, sitting on the edge of the bed. When she pulled her hair from the clip that held it up, the auburn locks tumbled out over her shoulders.

“I don’t think I have to tell you."

Jon knew that she was right, just as he knew that her features were quite similar to her mother’s and her brother’s, who were long defeated by the Lannisters. She was the last that remained, the Red Wolf. He felt wary of her, recalling the rumors that had traveled around the world. Everyone knew of her villainy, though he could not see her warm blue eyes being filled with the hatred that Joffrey Baratheon screamed of to everyone who would listen.

“The Lannisters sent an assassin to kill you," Sansa said, lifting his injured army gingerly to inspect it. "The Mountain."

He groaned, the details of the fight flooding back into his mind.

“Gods, he's really fucking strong,” Jon said, wincing as she prodded at the bruises on his skin.

“He was,” Sansa corrected him, glancing up into his eyes. “He’s encased in ice now. I don’t think even the Lannisters can fix that.”

Jon tilted his head to the side.

“It is true, then.”

Sansa did not reply at first, turning his arm over in her hand.

“Is it true of you?” she asked, trailing her fingers softly over his palm.

Jon hesitated before lifting his other hand, pulling hers away. When fire illuminated the room from his hand, she gasped and looked up at him with wide eyes.

“You could destroy anything with this power,” Sansa said quietly.

He could not help but frown at her.

“I do not see it that way. Why do you?” he asked.

She looked away from him just as her fingertips approached the fire that was his power. As soon as her touch met with the flames, they turned to ice and fell heavily onto his hand.

“I am only what the Lannisters have made me,” Sansa said in a dark voice. “They destroyed my family and cursed me to be the villain in every fight because I sought revenge for their deaths.”

Jon watched as she took the ice from his hand and tossed it away, causing it to shatter on the floor.

“I could use some of that for my wrist."

She looked up at him with surprise before smiling slightly. Her hand wrapped around his swollen wrist and he felt coldness seeping into his bones there. Jon shivered beneath her grip, unable to control his reaction.

“You’re cold,” he breathed.

“And you are warm,” Sansa sighed, reaching out to stroke her other hand over his cheek.

Jon laid his head back against the headboard of her bed.

“Why did you save me from the Mountain?”

Sansa stared at him warily.

“You are better than they are. You deserve to live,” she finally said quietly. “The people of this world need you to fight.”

Jon tilted his head to the side as he watched her.

“Would you fight with me?” he asked.

Sansa raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“If you keep me at your side, this will not be the last time the lions try to kill you,” she warned.

“I don’t care,” Jon said honestly.

She smiled slightly, shaking her head.

“You might be crazy," Sansa said, reaching up her hand to tap at his temple. "I think your fire is going to your head."

“It wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen,” Jon shrugged.

Her cheeks flushed as she looked into his eyes.

“I guess it wouldn’t,” Sansa agreed.


	60. Modern AU - Secret Service

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Can you hear me?"

Sansa’s entire body shook as she heard the sound of bullets and screaming echo all around her. She pressed herself against a building, desperately trying to remember where everyone was. The rest of the family hadn’t come but her father was giving a speech at her university. She'd had to be there. Now she did not even know what was happening except that several gunmen were firing at the President of the United States, who just so happened to be her father. Sansa desperately hoped that they got him into the limo and that he was driving away, safe and unharmed. Though, if she knew him at all, she knew that he would be shouting at them to turn back to get her. She heard someone shout her name but couldn’t quite place it. Her head swam and she felt like she might vomit or faint at any moment. Just as she slumped forward, two hands caught her shoulders and held her up. She heard whoever it was yelling distantly but couldn’t bring herself to focus.

“Sansa!” their voice finally brought through her muddled mind. “Sansa, can you hear me?”

She lifted her head with some effort, blinking away the haze in her mind.

“Jon?” Sansa managed, reaching for him.

Her father’s secret service bodyguard pulled her towards him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders.

“Come on,” he said gently.

“The shooters,” she said with panic in her voice.

“They’re dead."

Just as he hoisted her up to stand, Sansa realized that she didn't hear the gunfire anymore. The people were still screaming around her but there were no loud pops. Sansa fought to keep herself upright, not wanting to collapse now.

“My father,” she said, pleading for information as he hurried her to the limo.

“He’s all right. Pyp and Grenn are taking him to the White House,” Jon explained.

Sansa frowned at him as he opened the door and all but shoved her in.

“You should be with him,” she argued, clasping his hand in hers before he could pull away.

Jon leaned into the limo.

“He wanted me to get to you,” he said, frowning at a cut on her hand.

He reached out to touch it gingerly and she winced.

“I’ll have them take you to the hospital,” Jon decided.

She gripped his hand tighter.

“Don’t leave,” Sansa said softly.

He hesitated, glancing around before giving her a nod. Sansa barely listened as he shouted instructions over his shoulder before pulling the door closed. She tried to keep herself together but the realization that people had just tried to kill them finally sank in as Jon looked at her with concern. Heavy sobs wracked her body as tears streamed down her face. Jon pulled her in without a second thought, wrapping his arms around her. Sansa curled against him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“Did anyone die?” she cried, suddenly pulling away from him after several minutes of crying.

“I don’t know,” Jon said honestly.

She let out a whimper, trying not to imagine it.

“Shh,” he soothed her, stroking her hair out of her face. “It’s all right now.”

Sansa clutched at him, looking up into his dark, warm eyes. When she leaned in to kiss him, he did not pull away. She’d heard all of the excuses before. He was supposed to guard her, not date her. Sansa didn’t give a damn about any of it. One of them could have died and they might not have been given the chance. Jon seemed to realize the same, hesitating for just a moment before pulling her in closer. Mindful of her bleeding hand, Sansa climbed into his lap, straddling his thighs as she deepened the kiss. Jon held her close, one hand pressed into her back and the other curled into her auburn locks. When she pulled away, Sansa let out a deep breath and laid her forehead against his.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He let out a quiet laugh and she could feel it rumble where her hand was pressed over his chest.

“For kissing you?” Jon asked, looking at her with amusement.

Sansa shook her head quickly.

“For coming back for me."

Jon leaned in, pressing another kiss to her lips.

“You know I always will."


	61. Modern AU - Jon helps Sansa with her car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa's car needs some work done while away at college and Jon offers to see what he can do.

Sansa felt useless, though she knew that there was nothing she could do to help. The limits of what she could do with a car was filling it with gas and knowing when something was wrong. Rather than go to a mechanic, Robb convinced her to let Jon look at it. She remembered that he used to fix his own car when they were in high school and relented, allowing her brother to set it up. Now, sitting outside of her apartment building, she was so grateful that she gave in. She sat well out of the way on the sidewalk, watching as Jon bent over the engine and looked over the maze of parts that she had no hope of understanding.

She would be lying if she said that it wasn’t a good view from where he was sitting. Jon wore a pair of worn jeans and a thin black t-shirt that stuck to his skin because of the heat. Sansa couldn’t remember him being this filled out when she last saw him, but it was definitely hard to tear her eyes away from his muscled back as he worked. With her lower lip caught between her teeth, her eyes followed the line of his body as he leaned forward to unscrew a cap. Yes, it was a very good view and she should have been far more ashamed to be admiring him so openly. But what he didn't know couldn't hurt either of them.

“It’s pretty simple, really,” Jon said, turning around.

Sansa gasped lightly and lifted her eyes too late, meeting his gaze with burning cheeks. It didn’t take long for him to realize what she had been doing and his face flushed as well. She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands, glancing past him at her car.

“You probably shouldn’t even try to explain it to me,” Sansa said, standing up slowly so that she did not feel so much lower than him. “I’m hopeless when it comes to this stuff.”

Jon nodded, playing with the wrench in his oil-stained hands. They both stood in awkward silence for a while before she had to break it.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked.

He glanced up at her as he considered the offer.

“It’s pretty hot out here,” Jon shrugged, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“I’ll go get you a cold water,” Sansa said, jumping on the chance to escape.

Before he could protest, she turned away to hurry upstairs to her apartment. She took the chance to breathe deeply and tried to push away the heated desire pooling in her belly. Sure, Sansa had her flings. She was at college and that was almost expected. But her brother’s best friend was surely off-limits. They had never been particularly close growing up. Yet now, away from everything and everyone else, Sansa couldn’t think of a single reason why that couldn't happen. He was Robb’s friend, there was a good one. Her brother was rather protective and he wouldn’t take kindly to his best friend fucking his little sister. And Jon definitely wouldn't want to risk his friendship with Robb when he'd shown little interest in Sansa.

Sansa built up her excuses like armor, clearing her mind as she grabbed two bottles of water out of her fridge. By the time she found herself heading back down the stairs, she felt determined to act normal. Jon was definitely not happening. She didn't even want him that much. The heat was just getting to her and making her think the craziest thoughts. Just as she took the last step, her eyes lifted to see that he was bent over the car once more. Only this time, there was definitely something different. Sansa whimpered, _actually fucking whimpered_ , at the sight of his bare skin. His t-shirt was discarded, hung over the raised hood of her car as he twisted the wrench over a bolt. The movement caused the muscles to roll beneath his tanned skin and made her heart quicken.

 _Okay, Sansa, get it together. You haven’t been with guy in months That's all that this is._ Sansa lifted her chin, determined to act normal as she strode forward confidently. Jon turned when he heard her footsteps and she was tempted to throw the bottle of water at him. It was unfair, how much better he looked from the front. She quickly lost the fight to keep her eyes fixed on his face, glancing over his glistening chest and toned abdomen to the trail of dark hair that led beneath the waistband of his jeans When she looked up at his face once more, she could see the shine of amusement in his eyes. Sansa fought back a scowl, shoving the bottle of water towards him. He was doing this on purpose. Jon would probably have a good laugh with Robb later over how he managed to torture stupid little Sansa. Well, two could play at that game, couldn’t they?

“I might have changed my mind,” she said, giving him the sweetest smile that she could manage.

He gave her a questioning look as he unscrewed the top from the water.

“About what?” Jon asked before taking a drink.

Sansa stepped towards the car as she pulled her cardigan off, leaving her in a light blue strapless sundress. Before, she would have refused to get the pristine fabric dirty. Now she didn’t care. She could always wash it. She laid her sweater over his t-shirt before leaning over the engine.

“I want you to teach me something about cars,” Sansa said, looking at him over her shoulder.

She fought back the triumphant grin when she saw his eyes darken slightly.

“Sure,” Jon answered, stepping towards her.

She could see the challenge in his eyes. He knew that she was playing dirty too. They stood side by side, peering into the complicated mess of parts that made no sense to her eyes.

“This right here,” Jon began, taking her hand in his to lead it to the part he was talking about. “This is the spark plug. I had to replace it.”

His touch sent a jolt of heat between her thighs and she gasped lightly. The corner of his mouth lifted and she frowned slightly.

“What does it do?” she asked, hovering her fingers over the part.

“This is how your car starts. It sends an electric current to the combustion chamber, over here,” Jon explained, leading her hand to the chamber in question.

Sansa raised her eyebrows.

“That doesn’t sound dangerous at all,” she said sarcastically, drawing her hand away.

“Your car is off right now so I think we’re safe,” he assured her.

She fought back a huff, leaning into him to point out another part.

“What’s that?” Sansa asked, relishing in his shudder when her breath washed over his neck.

“A/C pipe,” Jon answered, turning his head slightly to look at her.

She smiled at him.

“Well that’s pretty self-explanatory,” Sansa said before turning to look down at the engine. “And what about thi-oh!”

His warm lips pressed to her shoulder as he brushed her hair aside.

“Ignition coil,” Jon murmured.

Sansa braced her hands on the car, tilting her head to the side.

“And that?” she breathed.

“Fuse box.”

His hands went to her hips, pulling her back against him. She gasped, leaning her head back against her shoulder. Her hand reached back, sliding into his dark curls.

“Do you really want to learn more about cars?” Jon asked, lightly scraping his teeth over her earlobe.

Sansa shook her head, struggling to breathe evenly as his hand pressed over her abdomen and his thumb rubbed circles into her skin through the thin fabric of her dress.

“What do you want to do instead?”

Sansa did not answer with words, turning around in his arms. Their lips crashed together as her arms wound around his neck. He held her close, his hands splayed over her back.

“Not here,” Sansa gasped against his lips.

He reached out blindly, tossing his t-shirt and her cardigan to the side before slamming the hood closed. Sansa dragged him towards the stairs, laughing as he tried to catch her around the waist for another kiss. They made it up one flight before pausing for a brief yet passionate embrace.

“Inside,” she insisted, pulling away from him.

“Yes ma’am,” Jon replied, all but hauling her up the stairs.

They crashed against her door as Sansa unlocked it with trembling fingers.

“Did you bring me here to fix your car or to seduce me?” Jon asked as they staggered inside.

Sansa narrowed her eyes at him playfully, shutting her door before locking it.

“You're the one who took your shirt off,” she accused, pushing him back towards her bedroom as their clothes flew in every direction.

“Just trying to speed things up a bit, sweetheart,” Jon drawled with a grin.

“Well stop talking now,” Sansa said, shoving him back onto her bed, “You’re just slowing things down.”

He reached for her, pulling down her on top of him.

“Yes ma’am,” Jon repeated before tugging her in for a deep kiss.

She smiled against his lips, suddenly feeling very glad that her car had stopped working.


	62. Canon AU - Sansa is pregnant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is older when she goes to KL with her family but shortly after she arrives she is sent back in disgrace when it is discovered that she is pregnant. She arrives back in Winterfell to find Jon waiting for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is obviously aged up. Sansa is around 18 here.

By the time they reached Winterfell, her belly was too swollen for her to ride upon a horse. The wheelhouse rocked far too much for her to feel comfortable in it and they often had to stop for her to expel the contents of her stomach on the side of the road. But it was all worth it for what was waiting for her when they arrived. Sansa contented herself throughout their travels by focusing on her lover and their child. When they arrived into the courtyard of the castle that she knew so well, Sansa all but shoved the door open, ready to be out of the carriage for good. She barely waited for the groom to fetch a stool, only holding herself back because of the precious life inside of her. With one hand cradling her belly and the other braced on the doorway of the wheelhouse, Sansa stepped down carefully. A hand suddenly appeared before her and she looked up with surprise to see Robb standing there. He looked at her with sympathy, helping her down carefully before wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Sansa let him lead her forward slowly. Her hands clenched in her skirts and she controlled her breathing carefully, too terrified to look around.

“He’s not our brother, Robb,” Sansa whispered.

He stopped short, turning her to face him.

“I know,” her brother assured her, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on her forehead.

As soon as he released her, Sansa saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Her mother was standing there, her hands clasped before her and a clearly disapproving look on her face. She expected nothing less of the woman who despised her husband’s supposed bastard son. Sansa could only imagine Catelyn’s reaction when she discovered the identity of the father of her child, knowing that they’d been carrying on right beneath her nose. No one suspected, judging by the shocked looks on the faces of the inhabitants of Winterfell. Bran and Rickon stood on either side of her mother, looking thrilled to see her. But it was not on them that her gaze fell. Jon hovered far away from Catelyn, looking at her with an expression torn between sorrow, love, and happiness. Sansa stepped away from Robb, wanting nothing more than to run into the embrace of the man she loved. But she did not, walking forward slowly before sinking into a shallow curtsy that was all she could manage.

“My lady,” Sansa murmured, not knowing how else to address her mother.

When she looked up, the only word that could describe her mother was hurt. But she did not have time to dwell on it as Bran and Rickon darted forward. Sansa embraced Bran and kissed the top of his head before kneeling in the snow with difficulty, holding her arms out with a wide smile. Rickon was very careful when he approached her, hugging her lightly.

“Robb told us that you’re growing a baby,” he said, looking down at her as he pulled away.

“I am,” Sansa nodded, placing a hand on her swollen belly. “She or he will be your niece or nephew. Would you like that? Being Uncle Rickon?”

He nodded quickly.

“If it’s a boy, will he fight with me?” Rickon asked innocently.

She smiled, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

“Not for a while, sweetling. He has to grow up to be as big as you first,” Sansa said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

She only had to struggle to stand for a moment before Robb helped her to her feet. Sansa spared him a relieved look before turning to Jon. This time, she did walk past her mother with a focused expression. She had waited long enough. Though she was moving as quickly as she could across the yard, it took her far too long. Jon seemed to agree, striding forward purposefully. The hug was awkward with the size of her bump but it felt comforting all the same. Jon stroked her hair and whispered soft, reassuring words in her ear as she pressed her face into his neck. After a few moments, Sansa pulled away and tugged him down for a deep kiss, caring little for all the eyes upon them. Jon cradled her face in his hands, touching her carefully as if she would shatter if he did not. When she pulled away, Sansa looked up at him, hardly able to believe that she was truly back with him.

“I’m tired,” she said quietly, stroking her fingers over his cheek. “Take me inside, Jon.”

He gave her mother a wary glance before nodding, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. The other hand was entwined in hers as they moved towards the Great Keep. Sansa looked back at her family to see Robb murmuring something to her mother, who looked quite annoyed. She gave them a soft smile, hoping that it would satisfy her mother for now.

“Your chambers,” Sansa said once they stepped inside.

Jon obliged, knowing that she would be far more comfortable in them because they were only up one flight of steps, not three as her own chambers were. Their ascent was slow and she found herself leaning heavily against him by the time they made it up. Her eyes were burning with the tears that she had not yet shed.

“Jon,” she whimpered, clutching at him.

He sighed, holding her close to him as she cried.

“It’s all right,” Jon murmured.

She trembled in his arms, trying to calm herself. Sansa knew that distress, even of the emotional kind, would not be good for her child. Yet she could not make the tears stop coming.

“I was so scared. I thought that they wouldn’t let me return to you or, gods forbid it, that they would take my child from me to be raised by another,” Sansa sobbed.

“I would never let that happen, sweet girl,” Jon said, pulling her away to stare down into her eyes. “You know that I wouldn’t.”

She nodded, knowing that his words were true. Jon would fight them all to the death before they took their child.

“I’m so tired,” Sansa whispered.

He bent down, lifting her into his arms with ease despite her added weight. She laid her head against his shoulder, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief as he carried her down the corridor towards his chambers. As soon as a servant opened the door, he walked straight through his solar towards his bedchamber. Jon settled her on her feet gently, holding her up for a moment as she swayed. As he began unlacing the ties of her dress, Sansa sighed with relief. It was quite uncomfortable, though necessary for the cold. When she was finally able to push the heavy fabric to the ground, she stepped out eagerly, kicking her shoes off.

“Are you well? Other than…” he trailed off, knowing that he did not have to speak the obvious.

“I’m fine, Jon,” she said with a slight smile as he tugged her towards his bed. “We’re fine.”

His eyes flickered down to where she was cradling her belly, his gaze uncertain.

“Good,” Jon sighed with relief, helping her into the bed.

Once he pulled the furs up around her, Sansa reached out to grab his hand.

“Don’t leave me,” she pleaded.

He stared at her for a few moments before nodding. Once his jerkin and boots were off, he climbed between the furs, wrapping his arms around her. Sansa smiled slightly when he hesitantly placed them over her middle.

“I’m not sorry and I don’t want you to be either,” she said, letting her eyes flutter closed.

Jon did not reply immediately but when he did, Sansa heard the frustration in his voice.

“Our child will be born a Snow,” he said bitterly.

She clenched her hand down on his.

“Our child will be loved by both mother and father. We will allow no one to speak out against them,” Sansa said insistently.

Jon simply placed a kiss at the side of her neck with a sigh.

“Sleep my love,” he encouraged.

Sansa did not refuse, letting her body relax in his embrace as she slipped into unconsciousness. When she woke several hours later, she gasped and sat up at once. Jon stirred behind her before jerking awake, sitting up as well. 

“Sansa?” he said, his voice clearly concerned.

“I’m fine,” Sansa said reassuringly, turning towards him as she pressed her hand to her stomach. “The baby is just kicking.”

Jon glanced down with surprise.

“Kicking?” he murmured.

Sansa smiled at him, nodding slowly.

“Give me your hand,” she said, reaching out.

He did so, watching with wide eyes as she placed it over the spot on her belly.

“I don’t…”

“Wait,” Sansa breathed.

She sighed when she felt the kick, watching Jon’s face for his reaction. He looked completely awed, beaming up at her.

“Our little wolf is strong.”

Sansa grinned, nodding in agreement.

“Just like his father,” she replied.

“His?”

She nodded, looking down at their joined hands.

“I’m carrying low, just like Mother did with Rickon. He’s a boy,” she said confidently.

Jon carefully pushed her down to lie on her back before laying down to put his head at the same level as her belly.

“Our son,” he sighed, looking up at her with an adoring expression.

Sansa pressed her hand over his cheek, sighing happily.

“Another Eddard for the North?” she suggested.

His eyes shone with happiness as he nodded in agreement.

“Little Ned,” Jon sighed, pressing his forehead to her belly as he murmured to their child.

Sansa smiled, running her fingers through his hair as she listened to his soft words and knew that everything would be fine.


	63. Modern AU - Phone Call Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon going down on Sansa while she talks on the phone with somebody.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: very smutty smut

Jon watched her pace back and forth with a frown on his face as she tapped her phone against her hand with a stressed expression.

“Do you want to sit down?”

She shook her head.

“Do you want a glass of water?”

Another wordless shake of her head.

“Do you want me to leave?”

Sansa didn’t reply this time, simply shooting a frown his way that he had no idea how to decipher. As Jon tried to figure out himself whether he should stay or go, she finally opened her mouth to speak.

“I’m going to screw this up,” she said, her voice tinged with worry. “I’m going to screw this up and everything is going to be over. I’m going to lose this business. Mom and Dad are going to be so disappointed. I’m going to have to live in their basement or something. I’m probably going to have ten cats and my hair is going to be in curlers all the time.”

Jon shook his head, deciding his course of action as he stood. Sansa watched with wide eyes as he approached.

“Jon!” she shrieked when he bent over, hoisting her over his shoulder.

Her hands half-heartedly pounded against his back in protest as he carried her back to their bedroom.

“You’re not going to screw this up, you’re not going to live with your parents, and you’re allergic to cats _and_ hair curlers."

“You don’t know that,” she said in a small voice, giving up on her fight.

Jon set her on her feet in front of her bed, cradling her face in his hands.

“I do know that,” he said before lifting her into his arms and laying her down on the mattress gently.

Sansa gasped just before he kissed her deeply. Her phone fell to the bed, altogether forgotten as she slid her fingers into his hair. Jon slowly pushed her dress up to her waist, kissing his way down her chest as his fingers hooked in the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips, unwilling to deny him as he pulled the lacy material down her legs and tossed it away.

“You’re too wound up, sweet girl,” he murmured, nudging her thighs apart.

She let out a soft sigh as he kissed his way from her knee all the way up her thigh. Suddenly. the piercing ring of her phone filled the air. Sansa gasped and tried to push him away, reaching for the phone. Jon ignored her, his lips skimming over her soft skin. She whined his name before pressing talk, putting the phone to her ear.

“Hello,” she said, trying to sound professional. “Hi, Miss Martell. It is good to talk to you again.”

Jon looked up at her with a raised eyebrow, knowing that she was lying. Sansa waved him off and he lowered his head, returning to the task at hand. As her breath hitched, he felt a smile tug at his lips as his fingers parted her folds. Leaning forward, he licked one long stripe up the length of her before flicking his tongue over her clit. She whimpered, reaching down with her free hand to clutch at his hair. Her hips lifted towards his mouth and he knew that she did not want him to stop.

“Yes that… that sounds good,” Sansa managed as he laved his tongue over her and teased her entrance with his fingers.

Jon could hear Arianne Martell chattering away on the other end about the quality of fabrics and silk versus lace as Sansa nodded along with her words. When he slid his fingers into her and curled them just right, a sharp cry ripped out of her chest.

“Y-yes, Miss Martell. I’m just fine,” Sansa said, shooting him a glare as he grinned up at her from between her legs. “I just thought that I left the oven on.”

Jon shook his head with a huff of laughter before focusing his attention on her sensitive clit. She sighed and rolled her hips against his mouth.

“That, uh… that sounds good. I’m sure it will be beautiful."

Jon wrapped his lips around her clit, sucking it into his mouth before letting his tongue flicked over it again and again. Sansa let out a muffled sob of pleasure, her body tensing so that he knew she was close. Jon seized her hips, pulling her closer to his mouth.

“Yes, I will have that taken care of," Sansa said, clearly rushing through the end of the conversation. "Thank you, Miss Martell. Goodbye.”

Sansa barely waited for her to say goodbye in return before ending the call and tossing the phone away so vigorously that it clattered to the ground.

“Oh God, Jon,” she moaned, both of her hands clenched in his hair. “Don’t stop, please.”

He had no intention of stopping but hearing her breathless words spurred him on. He worked his mouth over her eagerly, using his lips and tongue to bring her to the edge. His name was a mantra on her lips as she came, her body growing riding beneath him as he licked and sucked her through her orgasm. He relished in every moan and whimper before pulling away as she breathlessly begged for him to stop. Jon rested his chin on her abdomen, looking quite proud of himself as she recovered. Sansa shook her head, regaining her voice.

“You just went down on me while I was talking to my new client,” she murmured, a small smile playing on her lips.

Jon wiped his mouth before surging up to kiss her deeply. Sansa clutched him close, already working on undoing his pants.

“You loved it,” he said against her lips.

“I did,” Sansa admitted carelessly, grinning at him before turning them over to give him her own form of distraction.


	64. Canon AU - Sansa works for Petyr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon is looking for his cousin through the whole Seven Kingdoms, only to find her in a brothel, where she is working for Petyr.

She was arranged in a purposefully alluring position on the bed, a creamy lace dressing gown wrapped around her slender body that did nothing to truly cover her. Her auburn hair draped unbound over one shoulder and her bright blue eyes were looking at him with a feigned desire as her hand extended towards him. Jon felt sickened as her red-stained lips parted to speak.

“Come, Your Grace,” Sansa breathed, her fingers curling as if to beckon him closer.

She had no doubt of who he was, yet she still offered him her body. Jon staggered forward only to fall on his knees at the side of the bed. Sansa smelled of rosewater, the scent wafting from her skin as her fingers stroked through his dark hair.

“Sansa,” he choked out, hardly able to believe that this was the girl he last saw on the Kingsroad going south with her betrothed.

Her lustful act dropped as soon as he spoke her name. Her eyes grew wide and she brought him closer with her fingers still twisted in his hair, pressing their foreheads together.

“He is watching,” Sansa said in as quiet a whisper as she could manage, her voice trembling with fear.

Jon’s hands clenched into fists at the mention of the man who held her in this place, selling her body to the highest bidder.

“Leave with me,” he said in a hushed voice.

Sansa shuddered at the thought. Desperate need and uncertainty warring within her eyes.

“He won’t let me leave."

He took her hand in his, staring deep into her eyes.

“He won’t have a choice," Jon assured her. "I have a company of twenty soldiers that will tear him apart at my command if he tries to stop us."

Sansa took a deep breath, nodding as she squeezed his hand.

“Take me."

Jon turned away as she stood and dressed. When he saw that she was only in a woolen gown, he placed his cloak around her shoulders. Outside of the room, he heard chaos and knew that Baelish had figured it out. He took her hand in his, pulling the door open to see the very man reaching out to open it. His eyes narrowed dangerously and Littlefinger faltered, looking as if he had seen a ghost.

“Look away,” Jon said in a rough voice.

He hoped that Sansa did as he said before he slammed his fist into Baelish’s face, breaking his nose and sending him sprawling over the lush carpet.

“Chain him,” he ordered the soldiers who hurried towards them, nodding down at Littlefinger’s fallen form.

As soon as they were out of the door, Jon felt that Sansa was trembling at his side. He bent down, sweeping her into his arms.

“Thank you,” she whispered, tears slipping down her porcelain cheeks as he carried her out of the brothel.

Jon looked down at her as they stepped into the cool night air, snow falling all around them. Her blue eyes were filled with gratitude as she stared back at him. Her hand lifted, her shaking fingers tracing the scars around his eyes. Jon bent down, pressing his lips to her forehead gently.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured before letting her down to help her onto his horse.

After making it clear that Peytr Baelish was to be dragged to King’s Landing in chains, Jon mounted behind her and took off into the darkness, wrapping his arms around her as she leaned back into his chest.

“Are you all right?” he murmured in her ear.

Sansa laid her pale hand over his, squeezing it gently.

“I am now.”


	65. Canon AU - Sansa brings Jon back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-Resurrection, book canon.

It wasn't Jon, but Lord Commander Snow she found at all the wall, and who sat before her now. He wore a look she knew too well. His grey eyes hard and focused, but not really seeing, not really feeling. She had heard of what happened to those who faced death and rebirth; alive, but not really living. He looked like Jon, her half-brother now cousin, but with none of the sweet shyness she remembered so well. _Please_ , Sansa begged him silently, _come back to me. Let me make you smile again_. She could feel the sympathetic looks of the men that stood in the chamber with her and her cousin. She did nothing to ease their guilt, feeling a rush of fury that they did nothing to stop the attack on their Lord Commander.

“Jon,” Sansa choked out, kneeling in front of him.

Tears filled her eyes and fell one after another, dripping onto his hands that were lying limply on his thighs. She took his hands in her own, gasping at the burning heat of his skin.

“Please,” she whispered, gripping his hands in hers. “I just found you, Jon. You’re the only family that I have left. I need you to look at me. I need for you to be Jon again.”

He did not react, still staring straight forward. At his side, Ghost nudged at her shoulder and looked at her with solemn red eyes.

“It’s no hope, m’lady,” one of the men said, stepping forward. “He’s been like this for weeks.”

Sansa fought back an angry retort, though she could not control the fierce glare that she sent their way when she turned her head. They quickly decided that it would be best to leave them alone, a choice she deemed wise as well.

“I dreamed of seeing you again, Jon,” Sansa said once they were gone, rising to her feet.

She lifted her skirts to her knees, arranging them so that she could climb on the chair. Her legs settled on either side of his thighs as she lowered herself into his lap. Her hands shook as she cradled his face, staring into those familiar grey eyes that didn’t seem to see her at all.

“I knew that it would be sweet,” Sansa whispered, pressing her forehead to his. “Even before I knew that you were my cousin, I begged the gods to let me see you again. I was so desperate for a familiar face, for _your_ face.”

She stroked his cheeks, her heart pleading with the same gods to return him to her now.

“I will bring you back,” Sansa whispered, vowing it to him. “I will do it even if it kills me.”

With that, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He was so hot against her, almost scorching her lips as she kissed him. At first, he was still as stone. Then his lips moved ever so slightly and suddenly there was the gentlest pressure against her mouth. Sansa gasped, her eyes fluttering closed as his arms lifted to wrap around her, pulling her closer. Jon parted her lips with her tongue before delving into her mouth, coaxing her into a deep, passionate kiss. Sansa almost melted into him, her heart pounding in her chest as her fingers tangled in his dark hair. When she finally gathered the strength to pull away, they were both breathing heavily as if they ran for miles.

She stared into his eyes, feeling utter relief when she saw that they were filled with his sweetness once more. There was a haunted look to them too, but she was certain that the same could be said of her Tully blue eyes. They had seen war and that look may never go away. Sansa stared at him warily, half expecting for him to push her off of his lap out of disgust. Instead his hands lifted, his fingers carefully exploring her face and stroking through her hair. When he spoke, Sansa thought that she might utterly die of the happiness swelled within her.

“Sansa,” Jon whispered, his voice rough and deep. “My lovely Sansa.”

His lips pressed to her forehead and she felt tears slipping down his cheeks as she brushed her fingers over his face.

“I am here,” Sansa murmured, reassuring him. “My sweet Jon.”


	66. Modern AU - Jon finds Sansa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa ran away, thinking that her family is dead. By coincidence, Jon finds her and tells her that he will bring her home, where they are all waiting for her.

"Sansa?” a manly voice called out.

A deep, brooding voice, like a backdrop for a funeral. It was one of the many voices of her old hometown. In a panic, Sansa turned around and saw the tall, dark-haired man coming to her. Jon. No. No one wasn't supposed to find her here. _No_. Her heart thundered in her chest as he neared her. Sansa shook her head quickly, extremely aware of her dyed hair that his eyes took in with confusion. She lurched forward, moving for the exit as quickly as she could. As she passed him, her hand caught his wrist and she pulled him along behind her. He did not resist, following her willingly. They hurried out of the shop but Sansa still did not stop, leading him around the corner into an alleyway where they wouldn’t be heard. She started to pull her hand away from him as she turned to face him but he caught her fingers in his gently.

“Is this where you’ve been the whole time?” Jon asked, looking down into her eyes.

She shook her head, looking away from him. Petyr had promised her safety, taking her from place to place so that no one would figure out her identity.

“Sansa, everyone has been looking for you,” Jon said, lifting her chin gently.

She gave him a look of confusion.

“Everyone?” Sansa said.

He nodded, stroking his thumb over her jawline softly.

“Your family, they all think you’re dead now. Why did you run?”

She felt her heart drop and almost collapsed in his arms. For years, Petyr lied to her. He told her that her entire family died in the fire that was started by her ex-boyfriend’s family. Jon held her up, pulling her close to him as tears filled her eyes.

“I thought they were dead,” she cried, clutching him desperately. “I thought it was my fault.”

He shook his head quickly, kissing her forehead.

“They’re not dead, Sansa,” Jon assured her.

She let out a hoarse sob, unable to believe that this was happening. Jon ran his fingers through her dark hair, murmuring reassurances about how happy her parents would be when she returned, how Robb would gather her in one of his tight hugs, Bran and Rickon would be out of their minds with joy, and even Arya might cry a little bit when they embraced. Sansa pushed herself up onto her toes, kissing him deeply. She had not forgotten what they were before the fire. Before she had to disappear. Jon was everything that Joffrey wasn’t, gentle and kind and brave. He held her close, kissing her back with breathtaking fervor until she pulled away and let her forehead lay against his.

“Take me home."


	67. Canon AU - Sansa gives birth to an heir

A full day's labor has left Sansa exhausted, but she doesn't relax until her babe is safely in her arms. Taking a look at the fruits of her toil, Sansa collapsed against her bed with a relieved laugh. Her son has silver hair and amethyst eyes, the features of his grandsire. A true Targaryen. None can doubt Jon's lineage now, not even his skeptical aunt. His crown, and their lives, are finally secured. Sansa pressed a kiss to her son's forehead, thinking there had never been a babe more cherished in all of Westeros. Jon did not wait a moment longer to enter the room, though she hardly expected him too. Sansa was honestly surprised that they managed to keep him out for so long. He hesitated at the door, glancing around at the bustling women and the bloodstained linens that were stripped from the bed before she was allowed to lie down again in a clean shift.

“Come here, Jon,” Sansa said, adjusting the babe against her chest before extending her hand towards him.

His feet carried him to her quickly and he sat on the bed slowly, careful not to jostle either of them.

“Our son,” she murmured, stroking the babe’s cheek.

Jon let out a relieved sigh and Sansa knew him well enough to know that it was for several reasons. The first was for the health of his wife and child after her long hours of labor that passed to bring him into this world. The second was that their family was safe. He kissed her forehead gently.

“He’s amazing,” Jon said, looking into the newborn’s bright eyes. “Thank you.”

Sansa turned, tilting her head up towards him.

“You had something to do with it too,” she reminded him, nudging her shoulder against his.

He smiled at her, shaking his head.

“This battle was yours, my love. And it has saved us all as much as than any that I ever fought.” Jon assured her, bending down to kiss her deeply.

Sansa knew better than to argue. He could be as stubborn as her most of the time.

“I want to name him Robb,” she said, pulling away to look down at their boy. “I know he does not look like a Stark, but I so want to have a little Robb, to honor my brother.”

Jon reached down, stroking his thumb over their child’s cheek as the babe yawned deeply.

“She will not like it,” he warned her, clearly referring to his aunt.

“He is not her son,” Sansa replied simply. “He is ours and we shall name him as we please.”

Jon nodded in agreement.

“Robb it will be then,” he decided.

Her answering smile could have lit up the Seven Kingdoms even in the darkest of winters. But they did not have to worry about the winter just now. It was summer in Westeros and with it, the gods brought the realm a new prince.


	68. Modern AU - Bridesmaid/Groomsman

Jon knew he was in trouble the moment he saw the bridesmaid dresses. Sansa always looked too good in blue. Honestly, he knew he was in trouble the moment he found out his ex was Gilly's maid of honor. But he couldn't call her an ex when she was never really his girlfriend. Both had been too stubborn to admit what they meant to eachother, or too afraid. He stood by Sam at the altar and when her eyes met his, he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. _It should be us_. At the reception, Jon could not avoid sitting at the table with the rest of the wedding party.

As luck, or Gilly’s not-so-subtle meddling, would have it, he found himself sat right next to Sansa. It was awkward, to say the least. Their hands brushed several times as they ate and whispered apologies slipped from trembling lips. It took everything in Jon’s power not to just grab her hand and hold it, or do something else that was utterly stupid like kiss her. When it finally seemed that she had enough, Jon watched as Sansa grabbed an entire bottle of champagne from a passing waiter as well two glasses. She stood with a huff before bending down to his ear.

“Come with me.”

He didn't dare to refuse, scrambling to stand rather ungracefully. They walked out of the venue, Sansa's steps far more determined than his hesitant ones. As they stepped out into the warm summer air, he watched Sansa kick her shoes off and step out onto the grass. She glanced back at him after a moment, raising one eyebrow expectantly. He knew that he probably looked like an idiot, standing there with his hands in his pockets and an expression on his face like a scolded child.

“You aren’t going to let me drink alone, are you?” Sansa asked.

Jon shook his head in reply and she looked satisfied, turning to walk out onto the lawn. He followed her quietly as they approached a large sculpted fountain. Sansa sat on the edge before holding the wine bottle up to him.

“You know about my bad luck with corks,” she reminded him.

That he did, laughing quietly as many one particular memory stood out, of a drunken Robert Baratheon clutching his rapidly swelling eye as Sansa lost all the color in her face, realizing that she'd injured her father's best friend.

“Shut up,” Sansa muttered, though she was smiling as well.

Jon eased the cork out, popping it off before reaching for the glasses. Sansa held them out, allowing him to pour a generous amount in each before he took one. He sat next to her at she patted the spot next to her in a wordless invitation.

“I recommended this champagne to Gilly,” Sansa said before taking a long sip.

“It’s a good choice."

She rolled her eyes at his response.

“I almost always make good choices, Jon Snow,” she reminded him.

He couldn't argue with that. The decision not to marry Joffrey despite the pressure to do so. The choice to quit working for Petyr Baelish when he made several advances on her. And the most recent one of opening her own, quite successful bakery, ignoring the doubts of others who didn’t think that she could make it on her own. She had a good history of decision making, in his opinion.

“It seems that the only time I ever made the wrong choice was…” Sansa’s head turned towards him as she trailed off and he could read the end of her sentence quite easily in her bright gaze.

She lifted her hand, pressing it against his face.

“You were the one guy who never would have hurt me,” Sansa sighed, stroking her thumb over his cheek.

Jon turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist.

“I still wouldn’t,” he breathed.

She smiled slightly just as they heard shouts for the bride to throw her bouquet coming from inside of the venue.

“You’ll want to be in there for that. They want all the single women."

Sansa bit on her lower lip for a moment before speaking.

“I’m not sure I want to be a single woman anymore."

He took that as a cue, leaning in hesitantly. Just before their lips touched, she let out the softest, contented sigh. That was when he knew that while he might have been getting himself into even more trouble, she was worth it. Sansa closed the rest of the distance between them, smiling against his mouth just before he deepened the kiss. As he pulled away several minutes later, or maybe even hours, Jon rested his forehead against hers.

“Maybe it’ll be us next time,” Sansa said, her voice soft and hopeful.

Jon ran his fingers up and down her bare arms, feeling her shudder against him.

“I hope so."


	69. Canon AU - Robb lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you challenging me?"

Evenings in the Great Hall were always her favorite. Sitting at the head table, Sansa could not help but think of all the good times that their family had together, and the memories that they were still making. Arya sat describing the great titans of Braavos to Rickon as he reclined in her lap and her lover sat at her side. Gendry didn’t speak much, but they all considered him as much part of the family as the others. He’d brought her back to them, after all. Sansa sat beside Jeyne, both quietly planning the celebrations for Jon’s nameday. He didn't voice a preference, not used to people actually planning such a thing for him. If she were to guess, Sansa would assume that he didn’t even know what he would want for a celebration like this. So they had to mostly figure out what he would like on their own. When Robb’s voice rang out loudly, they lifted their head to look at the two questioningly.

“Are you challenging me?”

Jon shrugged in response, a teasing glint in his eye.

“I’m not sure you can handle it, Your Grace."

Sansa glanced at Jeyne and her goodsister shook her head, looking clueless as well.

“We’re going to settle this right here and now,” Robb said, pointing at his cousin before waving a servant over. “Bring a barrel of ale in and as many cups as you can find.”

She raised her eyebrow at her brother and her husband as the servants hurried to obey.

“What exactly are you two up to?” Sansa sighed, leaning back in her chair.

They both looked over at her.

“He thinks I’m a lightweight,” Robb said, pointing at Jon.

“I only pointed out that you are unable to drink more than three or four cups of wine without mistaking Winterfell’s stable master for your wife,” Jon replied, holding his hands up in surrender.

Jeyne and Sansa exchanged a look.

“He’s right, husband,” Jeyne said, trying and utterly failing to keep the laughter from her voice.

Sansa far more subtle, biting her lip to keep from giggling even as mirth shined in her eyes. Robb scowled at them both.

“Keep count, would you?"

“Oh I will have no part in this,” Jeyne said, shaking her head.

“Nor will I,” Sansa agreed with a roll of her eyes. “You fools are on your own.”

The two men did not reply, trying to focus as the ale was poured out for them. Everyone in the hall watched as they drank cup after cup, trying to outmatch the other. When it was all done with, two of the Kingsguard were supporting Robb’s weight as they pulled him out of the room on Jeyne’s command, the King in the North shouting about a rematch the entire way. Jon was swaying on his seat, looking like he could pass out at any moment. Sansa huffed, shaking her head as she stood and crossed to him.

“My beautiful wife,” he sighed as she tugged him to his feet.

“Nice try, now come on,” Sansa urged, pushing him towards the exit. “A bath and then sleep for you, I think.”

Jon threw his arm around her shoulders, trying unsuccessfully to receive a kiss from her.

“I won. I should be rewarded,” he muttered.

“I think the ache you’ll feel tomorrow will be reward enough,” Sansa said, though she smiled as he nuzzled at her hair.

Just as they stepped into his bedchamber and Sansa ordered for hot water to be brought to them, he gathered her in his arms.

“I love you,” he said, stroking her cheeks with his fingers in a clumsy manner.

Sansa reached up, taking his hands away from her face.

“You should,” she said, leading him into his room to take off his stinking clothing. “Not every wife would put up with this.”

Jon simply smiled as she stripped away his doublet and tunic before sitting him down on the bed to relieve him of his boots. As soon as she rose to her feet, he reached towards her, putting his hands on her hips to guide her towards him. Sansa huffed out a sigh but allowed him to pull her onto his lap.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, nosing at her jaw before capturing her lips in a kiss.

Sansa allowed it for several moments, responding in kind before pulling away and tapping at his nose with one finger.

“You won’t remember a moment of this in the morning,” she informed him.

He shrugged, looking careless.

“I’ll remember it now, my beautiful Sansa… whom I love.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head before allowing him to kiss her once more.


	70. Canon AU - Time Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time Traveling AU after the mutiny against Jon.

The last thing that he remembered was sharp pain and bloodstained snow. His brothers betrayed him, starting a mutiny when he tried to rally them to save Arya from the Bolton bastard. Bowen Marsh led the attack and Jon could still hear those words haunting his mind.

_“For the Watch.”_

He opened his eyes slowly, unwilling to feel the pain that the daggers must have left behind. How had he even survived it? Instead of pain, he felt nothing at all. Jon turned over slowly, realizing quickly that this bed was much larger than his and much softer as well. The furs were thicker and quite a bit newer. He sat up warily, looking around the ornate bedchamber with confusion. That was when he realized that he wore not a stitch clothing. He let his head drop as his hands rose to trace the healed scars on his skin with shock. They were at least a year old, if not more.

“It’s about time you woke."

Jon looked up, recognizing the woman who hovered in the doorway with a stunned expression on his face. She looked quite a bit older but he would recognize Sansa no matter what. Her hair was unbound, falling over her shoulders in fiery waves. She wore a blue silk dressing gown and her feet were bare. When she climbed on the bed next to him, Jon could not tear his eyes away from her beauty. She had to be at least five namedays older than when he last saw her, if not more.

“Robb wanted me. He was screaming so fiercely that I thought his nursemaid might cry as well. I suppose his teeth are coming in," Sansa said, reaching up to brush an errant curl away from his forehead.

It was such a familiar and intimate action that Jon’s chest warmed and he immediately longed for more.

“Robb?” he said, tilting his head to the side with confusion.

Sansa looked in his eyes with a mixture of amusement and concern, giving him a slow nod.

“Our son, Robb."

Her fingers brushed over a sore spot on the side of his head and he winced, hissing in pain. Sansa gave him a sympathetic look, tutting quietly.

“I know that you hit your head yesterday but I did not think that you would forget your child so easily,” she said, leaning up to press a kiss to the bump beneath his dark hair. “He is your pride and joy, after all.”

Jon couldn’t seem to find his voice, only staring at her with wide eyes as she sat back once more.

“Are you all right, my love?” Sansa asked, her brow furrowing as her amusement faded.

He nodded quickly, silently scrambling to figure out what was going on.

“I’m fine."

She smiled slightly, still looking worried as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. Jon responded without thinking, forgetting for the moment that this was his sister. She certainly didn't seem bothered by it. When she pulled away and rose to her feet, he followed her with his eyes. As she slipped off her dressing gown, leaving only a thin shift covering her body, he clenched his hands into fists at the sight of her slender form. Yes, she was quite the beauty. More beautiful than any woman he had ever seen. Yet still his sister.

“Hurry up, Jon,” Sansa laughed as she picked up a dress that was laid over a chair. “My ladies must come dress me and they will not do so while you’re in here in such a state.”

He flushed, realizing what she meant. His clothing was strewn about the room, making it difficult to gather it all quickly. Of course she would want him out. If this was a clandestine affair, her ladies couldn't catch him like this. Sansa’s eyes remained on him as he scrambled to dress, realizing that it was all much finer clothing than he had at the Wall. When he turned to glance at her as he laced his breeches, Jon saw a dark look in her eyes that had heat pooling in his belly. He tried to shake off the feeling, reaching for his tunic.

“On second thought, I would rather like to keep you here all day,” Sansa said huskily.

He fought back a groan at the suggestion, his cheeks flooding with even more color.

“Don’t look so scandalized, husband,” Sansa teased, giggling at his reaction. “You haven’t been this shy since Bran told us the truth of your birth.”

Jon looked at her with wide eyes, both at the title that she used and the mention of their relation.

“My birth?” he questioned.

She rolled her eyes, crossing to his side once more.

“We are cousins, Jon. Did you forget that as well?” Sansa asked, clutching at his arm as she pushed herself up to kiss him once more.

Her breasts pressed against his chest and it took everything in him not to take her on the floor now that relief struck him to the core. These reactions to her, his supposed wife and cousin, were confusing him and yet not the sin he thought them to be. When she pulled away, Sansa looked up at him questioningly.

“Of course I did not forget,” Jon answered, lifting his hand to stroke the soft skin of her cheek.

She sighed, leaning into the touch. When she shoved him towards the door with a slight smile, he caught her wrist in his and tried to draw her in close once more. Sansa laughed, shaking her head.

“Go or I shall never release you from my chambers,” she threatened.

Though Jon would gladly submit himself to such a sentence, he gave in and walked out, buttoning his jerkin as he went. Several ladies were standing about in Sansa’s solar, tittering behind their hands as he passed. Jon nodded at them, wondering where he was to go now. When he stepped into the hallway, he immediately realized where he was. This was Winterfell, and the chambers that he just left were ones that he was never allowed to enter before. They were the apartments that belonged to the Lady of Winterfell.

“And here I thought you would never come out,” a familiar voice said behind him.

Jon turned, almost sighing with relief when he saw Satin approaching.

“What is happening?” he asked the steward.

The younger man raised his eyebrows at his question.

“You decided to spend the morning lazing about with your wife and now there are three annoyed Karstarks waiting for you in the Great Hall. Let’s go get you dressed.”

Jon followed him, feeling even more confused. He went through the motions, bathing quickly and shoving food into his mouth to break his fast before dressing in clothes worthy of a highborn lord. Everything was falling into place, though none of it made sense to his mind.

“I’m Lord of Winterfell?” Jon said, staring in the looking glass at his older face with a frown.

Satin rolled his eyes next to him as he straightened his doublet.

“More like King in the North, but whatever makes you happy."

Jon felt faint at the words, clutching at the chair next to him. It got even worse when Satin reached up, placing a bronze crown on his dark curls.

“Come on, Your Grace. The sooner you get this meeting over with, the sooner you can do what you actually like to do.”

He fought the urge to ask exactly what he liked to do, since he didn’t seem to know anything about this new world that he’d landed in. It had to be a dream, all of it. Because whatever was happening was too strange to be normal. As soon as Jon stepped into the Great Hall, he saw Sansa sitting on one of two thrones, the larger one recognizable as the great seat of House Stark. It was clearly set aside for him. His wife was wearing a sage green dress and there was a crown perched atop her head as well, a slightly smaller version of his own. Jon walked to her immediately, ignoring the people that bowed to him as he went. On instinct, he dropped to a knee in front of her and took her hand in his.

“My queen,” Jon murmured, hoping that he spoke the right words before pressing a kiss to her hand.

She smiled at him, reaching up to straighten the crown where it tilted on his head.

“My king,” she murmured softly, letting her fingers linger on his cheek before nodding at him to sit down.

He did so, turning to see three men approaching with unhappy looks on their faces. They bowed nonetheless just before someone introduced them as Karstarks. Jon barely paid attention as they spoke of their grievances, begging their monarchs to help with the wildlings on their lands. Sansa sensed that he would not speak, speaking gently in a way that seemed to talk the three men down from their anger. When they were dismissed, Jon felt her questioning gaze.

“You are usually quick to defend your decision to let the free folk settle in the North,” she said, squeezing his hand in hers.

Jon looked over at her, forcing a smile on his face.

“I’m just out of sorts today,” he replied, hoping that his answer would be enough.

She nodded, looking unsurprised.

“There aren’t many petitioners today. Just make sure that Arya takes it easy on you in the training yard. I would hate for you to get injured again.”

Jon fought the surprised exclamation of his sister’s, no, cousin’s name.

“She did get away from Ramsay,” he breathed, feeling relief.

Sansa gave him a strange look.

“Ramsay never had her, Jon. You know that,” she said, looking even more worried than she had in her bedchamber that morning. “It was Jeyne Poole that he married. Arya was in Braavos.”

He nodded quickly, not wanting to cause her more concern.

“Of course, that’s what I meant,” Jon said, lifting her hand to his mouth. "I'm sorry."

She relaxed slightly as he pressed a soft kiss to it, turning towards the next petitioner. Sansa was right, the petitioners went quickly and soon enough, she was urging him to go to the training yard.

“Perhaps holding a sword might make you feel better,” she said, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

Once he had changed into suitable clothing and left the heavy crown behind, Jon allowed Satin to lead him outside even though he knew the way to the training yard well. As he glanced up at the castle that was his childhood home, he realized how different it looked. Many of the stones were new, letting him see just how much had to be rebuilt before it was habitable. The idea made him sad, though he tried to hide it.

“About time,” an impatient voice rang out.

He looked around to see a much older Arya standing in the training yard wearing breeches rather than a dress, a training sword in her hand. Jon couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face at the sight of her. He fought the urge to hug her, knowing that he had to act as if all of this was simply part of his life as he picked up a sword of his own and ducked into the training yard. He felt at home here. This was one place that he would always feel comfortable.

“Let’s see what you have, little si… cousin,” he challenged.

Arya raised her eyebrows at him before advancing on him slowly, like a cat stalking its prey. Her attack was quick, more so than he thought it would be. Jon darted around with her, feeling exhilarated as she matched him thrust for thrust. The ringing of steel echoed around them, as well as the cheers of the men watching. Knowing that Arya would kill him if he held back too much, Jon did not give into her easily. He ducked a blow of hers, knocking his sword into the backs of her knees to send her down. He pressed the flat of his blade to her throat, making a triumphant noise.

“You’re quick, but you use that to your advantage and it leaves your technique sloppy,” Jon instructed her, holding his hand out to help her up.

She glowered up at him, taking his hand before slamming the hilt of her sword into his foot. He let out a blistering curse, lifting it off of the ground just as she swept his other foot out from beneath him. Jon landed on his back hard and she grinned down at him.

“What was that about technique?” Arya questioned.

He let out a grumble, rubbing at his head as he sat up.

“Honestly, you two are going to put each other in an early grave.”

They both turned their heads to see Sansa standing on the outside of the fence, a disapproving look on her face as she bounced a toddler in her arms. Jon moved to his feet, his eyes widening at the sight of the little boy with dark hair. Sansa smiled slightly as he moved over to him.

“Look who’s here,” he heard her murmur.

As if on cue, the boy’s head turned and he caught sight of his Tully blue eyes. The child reached towards him, yelling out as he squirmed in his mother’s arms.

“Pa!”

Jon’s heart swelled as he reached his arms out automatically. Sansa surrendered him without hesitation, watching as he settled the boy against his side.

“Robb,” he said, guessing that this was the very child she was speaking of that morning.

In response, his son reached up and grabbed one of his dark curls, tugging on it with a giggle. Jon didn’t even wince, cradling him close as he walked around, bouncing him lightly just as Sansa had been.

“You know, that whole hardened warrior vibe you try to put off in the training yard disappears when you hold him,” Arya said with a smirk, walking over.

When Robb seized her finger in his small hand, Jon watched her face grow infinitely softer.

“I can’t blame you though,” she said quietly, kissing his small fingers.

Jon stared at his son with awe, hardly able to believe that he was real. When he looked back at Sansa, he saw her watching with a smile, her eyes filled with joy.

“He’s beautiful,” he said, giving her all the credit and keeping none for himself as he walked back towards her.

Sansa reached out, stroking the downy hair on Robb’s head.

“I thought that seeing him might set you right,” she said, leaning in to kiss Jon.

Arya made a disgusted noise behind him but he ignored it, kissing her back with equal fervor as he relished in the weight of their son in his arms. This was his family and he finally realized that he didn’t want this to be a dream. The rest of the day passed in a blur, mostly spent with his wife and son trying to soak it all up just in case it ended all too soon. He learned more about the past that he did not know, hearing of how he reunited with Sansa in the Vale and fought in the war for the North. The war did not end until the Dragon Queen cast her shadow over Westeros and claimed Jon as her nephew and heir, giving him and his cousin the titles of King and Queen in the North when they married to unite Targaryen and Stark.

Once Robb was put down for the night and Sansa took him to her chambers to retire, Jon dreaded going to sleep. He feared that it would all disappear as soon as he closed his eyes. When she lay with him in her bed, both entirely stripped of their clothing, Jon treated her as if she was made of glass. He explored her body slowly, bringing her to peak several times with his lips, tongue, and fingers before she pushed him to his back and sank down on him. As they coupled, Jon fully realized what a man gave up when he took the vows of the Night’s Watch. It wasn’t just the physical act of love, but the connection with the woman who would share his bed and bear his children.

As they lay together after, Sansa’s head pillowed on his chest and his hands still exploring the soft skin of her back, Jon felt whole and loved. He lifted her head and pressed a deep kiss to her lips, realizing at once that he could easily love this woman and their family in return. When he woke, it came as no surprise to Jon that he was back at the Wall. His wounds were still fresh, stitched up by an unsteady hand. Pyp and Grenn explained to him that he was dead and that the Red Woman brought him back to life. When he prepared to leave the Wall and travel south, his former brothers asked if he was going to find Arya. Jon’s reply was short as he remembered the feel of his son in his arms and his wife in his bed.

“I’m going to the Vale.”


	71. Modern AU - Comic Con

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa meeting at comic con.

Sansa couldn't help but rock back and forth on her heels, chewing on her lip as she waited with the rest of her cast for their turn on Entertainment Weekly’s yacht. When Margaery grabbed her arm out of excitement, she jumped slightly and turned to face her with wide eyes, wondering why her best friend decided to scare the shit out of her.

“I will give you one chance to guess who’s on there right now.”

She shrugged, knowing that there was a good chance that her Margaery could get excited about any number of people. With a roll of her eyes and a scoff, the other woman made her impatience quite clear.

“One hint, you will probably faint when you see him,” she sighed, propping a hand on her hip.

Sansa did not have to think long after that. There was only one actor that she would simultaneously love and hate to meet out of pure admiration. She clutched at her friend’s hand, contemplating how best to escape. Diving into the water probably wouldn’t be the best plan considering that it wouldn’t exactly be the most subtle scene. Of course, the entertainment world would probably _love_ seeing pictures of that pop up all over the place. Margaery read her all too easily, keeping her in place.

“You are not running away. I want to see this,” she said with a grin.

Sansa looked at her with wide eyes, contemplating what she might have done in a past life to earn such a traitorous best friend. They stood right beside the ramp that led to the yacht, which meant that they had little chance of going unnoticed by anyone who came down. When she saw people approaching the exit of the boat, Sansa realized that jumping into the water was starting to look better and better.

“I hate you,” she whimpered, gripping Margaery's hand tighter.

“You say that now,” Margaery said, unbothered by her words.

When _he_ began descending the ramp, Sansa followed every step with wide eyes. Jon Snow was even more handsome up close, making her heart skip a beat. She was right in her prediction. Just as he stepped off of the boat, his eyes fell on her and Margaery. Just as he lifted his aviators, her best friend happened to step away, leaving Sansa to his dark grey gaze.

“You’re Sansa Stark,” he said, stepping closer to her.

She nodded, swallowing hard.

“I am,” she managed, holding her hand out. “You’re Jon Snow.”

He grinned at her, making her knees feel weak.

“I’m a big fan of yours,” he said, shaking her hand firmly.

“You’re what?” Sansa said in shock.

He let out a chuckle at her reaction.

“I’m sorry,” she said, flushing as she shook her head. “It’s just that I love your work and you’re great. The fact that you even recognize me is… wow.”

Jon raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s hard not to recognize you when you’re on half the billboards in Los Angeles,” he reminded her.

As if proving his point, he nodded behind her and she turned to see that one of her Chanel photos was being advertised high in the air.

“Right,” Sansa said, feeling like an idiot. "Still, you’re way cooler than me.“

Jon shook his head, brushing his personal assistant off when the man tried to pull him away for another interview.

"Agree to disagree?” he offered.

“I can work with that,” Sansa nodded, giving him her most charming smile as she prayed that she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself.

“Great.”

She watched as he stepped away, finally letting his assistant pull him back.

“Oh hey,” Jon said as she turned away.

Sansa glanced back at him questioningly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going out to a club a few blocks away tonight. You want to come?”

She felt her cheeks heating again as she tried her hardest not to gape at him.

“You want to go to a club with me?”

“If you want to go with me,” he shrugged in response.

She nodded, feeling giddiness rising in her chest.

“I’d like that,” Sansa said, trying to play it cool.

He grinned again and she fought back a happy giggle.

“I’ll meet you back here at eight,” Jon said, sounding happy that she agreed.

“It’s a date,” Sansa nodded before her cheeks heated once more as she realized what she said. “I mean, not that it’s… I didn’t mean… I just wanted to say…”

“It’s all right,” he said, waving her off. “Let’s call it a date.”

It was a miracle that Sansa didn’t utterly collapse in Margaery’s arms as she watched him walk off.


	72. Modern AU - Amnesia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa can only remember Jon.

No one could fully explain why he was the only one that she recognized when she woke up. Jon wasn’t even an actual part of the family, though he was much like a brother to her siblings. He was at the hospital for moral support more than anything. Sansa had barely interacted with him once they reached high school. Sansa’s eyes opened slowly and she looked dazed for a while, giving them time to call on the doctor. Once he came in, he flashed a light in her eyes while asking her questions about her name and where she lived. She was able to answer most of his questions, though the responses came slowly. When the doctor and nurse pulled her up to sit against some pillows, everyone grew concerned when she looked around with confusion.

“Do you know who these people are, Sansa?” the doctor asked, looking wary.

Catelyn clutched at Ned’s hand as they awaited her answer. Sansa’s heart rate picked up audibly on the machine as her eyes darted from face to face. When she caught sight of Jon, her entire body relaxed and she looked visibly relieved, slumping back against the pillows.

“Jon,” she sighed, reaching out to him.

He was just as shocked as everyone else. The doctor nodded at him to come forward but it took Robb shoving him towards the bed to actually get him moving.

“You know this young man?” the doctor asked.

Sansa nodded, reaching out to take Jon’s hand in hers.

“This is Jon Snow,” she said, looking up at him with bright eyes. “He’s… I think that he’s…”

She began to panic again, looking around for help before staring up at Jon pleadingly. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I don’t know how I know him,” Sansa admitted, her tears overflowing.

Catelyn let out a sob, moving closer. Her daughter reacted quickly, squeezing Jon’s hand as she moved away. 

“It’s all right, Mrs. Stark,” the doctor assured her. “This is most likely post-traumatic amnesia. It’s quite normal after car accidents where there’s a head injury involved.”

“Will she get better?” Ned asked roughly.

“It is very likely that she’ll regain her memories after a few days of rest. We just need to let her body heal and her brain will do the same.”

Sansa looked up at Jon once more.

“Is there something wrong with me?” she asked fearfully.

He shook his head quickly, bending down as he wrapped both of his hands around her smaller one. Jon sat on the edge of the bed, looking into her eyes.

“You were in a pretty bad car crash but you’ll be fine, okay?” Jon reassured her.

Sansa nodded, though she still looked slightly terrified.

“You won’t leave, will you?” she asked in a low voice.

Jon glanced around, unsure of how to answer her. None of the Starks gave any indication of how he was supposed to answer, so he was on his own.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to,” Jon finally said, reaching up to brush her hair away from her face.

Sansa looked relieved, pulling him closer for a hug. She buried her face in his shoulder.

“Thank you Jon."

*****

“Why do you think I remembered you?”

Jon glanced over at Sansa where she was lying on the bed next to him. She had been released from the hospital for a month now and most of her memories were back. He feared that when she realized that he meant almost nothing to her life, they would go back to the way that they were. But she still wanted him by her side, even when she was with her family or trying to reenter the life she had with her friends.

“I don’t know,” he admitted.

She sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“I’m glad that it was you,” Sansa said quietly. “No one else would have put up with me this long.”

Jon let out a soft chuckle, reaching up to run his fingers through her soft hair.

“That’s not true and you know it.”

Sansa shrugged, turning her face into his neck.

“No one would be as nice about it as you though. Even my mom isn’t as patient as you,” she mumbled.

Jon did not argue with that one.

“Well, I’m glad to be around any time you need me,” he said reassuringly.

Sansa did not reply for a moment before lifting her head to look into his eyes.

“That’s why I remembered you, I think,” she said, reaching up to stroke his cheek. “Someone out there knew that you would be the best for me.”

She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Jon reached up, threading his fingers through her hair as he responded carefully. When he pulled away, making sure that she was all right, Sansa simply smiled at him.

“Thank you Jon.”

“For kissing you?” he asked, laughing lightly.

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

“For helping me,” Sansa corrected him before hesitating a bit. “And for kissing me too, I suppose.”

Jon laughed again, pulling her in for another kiss as she giggled.


	73. Canon AU - Surprise Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one night stand and falling pregnant au

“I'm worried for you, princess.”

Sansa looked over at her handmaiden with a forced smile.

“I am only tired,” she said, trying to assure her.

Alyssa shook her head, pressing a hand to her head.

“There is a fever in your body. I am fetching the maester. You are ill, m'lady."

She sighed heavily, shaking her head as a maid ran out to fetch Maester Samwell.

“You will only worry my brother and cousin,” Sansa tried to argue.

“Perhaps they should be worried.”

She laid back against the pillows, knowing that there was no use in arguing. Sansa wished more than anything that her illness might have gone a few more days without being noticed. Then, perhaps, she might have been able to decide what to do. She had been around women with this particular malady and knew that there was no tonic that could resolve her symptoms.

“Do you have an idea of what it might be?” another of her ladies asked, pressing a cloth soaked in cool water to her forehead.

Sansa shook her head, preferring to remain ignorant for now. Soon, she would not be able to deny it. Her mind went back to that night when, heavily affected by wine, she decided to throw all of her inhibitions out the window. It was foolish. Both of them knew it. That was why they had not spoken of it since. But they would certainly have to speak of it now. When Maester Samwell came bustling in with a concerned look, Sansa winced when she remembered his connection to her one-time lover.

“Princess,” he said, bowing to her.

She nodded once before silently dismissing her ladies from the room. They did not argue, recognizing the serious expression on her face.

“Perhaps if you could lift your shift, Princess Sansa,” Sam said, blushing as he always did when he was around her.

“That will not be necessary, Maester Samwell,” Sansa sighed, pulling the furs higher up.

She tucked them beneath her chin, feeling somewhat like a child that was about to be scolded.

“My lady?” he said, surprised.

“I know the source of my illness, Sam,” she said, dropping all formalities. “I am with child.”

His eyes widened at her admission and he dropped the washing towel that was in his hands. Sansa pressed her lips together, staring at the wall.

“Are you… that is to say, are you certain?”

“Quite certain. The timeline is correct. I am experiencing sickness in the morning and quite a bit of tiredness in the afternoons. My appetite has increased and my emotional responses are exaggerated, to say the least,” Sansa replied, trying to keep her voice level.

It was a miracle that only her ladies had noticed, but no one ever called the King in the North and his Hand the most observant of men. Robb’s wife was confined to her chambers for the final few weeks of her own first pregnancy so she could not identify Sansa’s symptoms as easily. At the thought of having to tell everyone, her eyes filled with tears. Sam looked stunned as her chest began heaving with sobs.

“Your Grace, please. Perhaps if you… is there something that I can… what can be done for you?” he pleaded, his voice getting higher pitched with every word he spoke.

Sansa shook her head, fighting the urge to pull the furs over her head and pretend that this wasn’t happening.

“It was one night!” she wailed, beating her fists on the bed. “How in the seven hells did this happen in only one night?”

Sam looked at her with a grimace, glancing towards the door as if waiting to run.

“Sometimes only one time is all that it takes… my lady.”

Sansa’s head snapped up and she looked at him with what she hoped was a glare.

“Jon,” she said, lifting her finger to point at him as if he was to blame. “Tell the Hand of the King to come in here now or I shall go and fetch him myself.”

If her words left any doubt as to the father of her child, Sam did not show it. He simply nodded, his chains clinking together as he hurried out of her chambers as quickly as he could. Sansa was given several minutes to compose herself, standing to put on a dressing gown. She braided her hair over her shoulder and splashed cold water on her face, hoping that it might prepare her to face him when he came. Her hands shook as she stood by the window, looking out at Winterfell’s yard. Sansa bit down on her lip so hard that she feared it would bleed. When the door finally opened, she turned with a gasp to see Jon hurry in with wide eyes. The only emotion on his face was pure concern for her, causing her to burst into a fresh wave of tears.

“He told you!” she cried as he ran over, gathering her in his arms.

Jon shushed her, holding her close as she cried into his shoulder. When he finally managed to coax her into less hysterical tears, Sansa pulled away and looked up at him. He cradled her face in his hands, brushing her tears away.

“It will be all right,” Jon murmured, though she could see the fear reflected in his eyes as well. “I will take care of you both.”

Sansa nodded, believing in his words. She pushed up on her toes, pressing a deep kiss to his lips. Jon responded in kind, kissing her slowly and passionately until her body buzzed with pleasure. Sansa pulled away, breathing heavily as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. When they curled up together, she laid her head on his chest.

“What will Robb think?” Sansa wondered, terrified that her king and brother would be angry.

“He will likely be angry at first, more at me than you. Perhaps if you used some of those tears on him, he will be quick to forget any anger if only to stop the crying,” Jon said, a teasing tone in his voice.

Sansa laughed, slapping at his chest though she knew his words to be true.

“Then he will probably drag us to the heart tree himself,” Jon continued, less amusement in his voice. “This child will not be a Snow if we can help it.”

She did not argue, knowing better than to tell Jon that she did not care for that at all. His own past would cause him to do anything to keep his own child from living the same childhood.

“Would that make you unhappy? For us to be married?” Sansa wondered, fearing his answer.

Jon shook his head, lifting her face to look into her eyes.

“I asked Robb for your hand in marriage yesterday and he agreed. I was going to ask you tonight.”

Sansa smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

“Then perhaps it is not all as bad as I thought,” she sighed, pulling away to lie down once more.

“Still, save some of those tears for Robb, just to be safe."

She laughed once more, knowing that she should not have doubted him.


	74. Canon AU - Rhaegar Wins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> meeting at a masquerade ball au

Though she had been in King’s Landing for almost four days, Sansa had yet to meet either of the princes or the king. Princess Rhaenys assured her that it was not strange and that they were not avoiding her for any reason. They were simply taking part in a hunt to celebrate the arrival of Prince Jon’s betrothed. When Sansa first heard that the evening’s festivities would include masks, she was thrilled. It sounded like something out of a song. Then she grew more afraid, only confiding her fears to her mother. How would she find the prince who was to be her husband? What if he met her when she was masked only to decide that he did not like her when he saw her face? Catelyn dismissed such ideas as impossible, but Sansa was not so sure. Princess Rhaenys was very kind, helping her pick out the colors and fabric for her gown that the royal dressmaker created, much to her surprise and delight.

“You will look beautiful,” Rhaenys informed her once they broke their fast the morning of the banquet.

The dressmaker had insisted on a fitting so that she could do any last-minute adjustments. Sansa flushed slightly at the princess' compliment, smiling at her through the mirror.

“Thank you, Your Highness."

Rhaenys turned to the table, opening a small box that she’d carried in. Sansa was not surprised when she pulled out a dark blue mask that would match her gown perfectly.

“That’s exquisite,” she marveled as Rhaenys fitted it around her eyes and tied it at the back of her head.

The princess looked proud at the final product, despite the fact that Sansa’s hair was not fixed.

“My little brother is going to swoon at the sight of you,” she said with a grin.

Sansa’s smile faltered and she carefully slid the mask off.

“Will he?” she asked, concerned.

“Of course!” Rhaenys said brightly.

Sansa wished that she had the same unwavering faith.

*****

The Queen’s Ballroom in Maegor's Holdfast was decorated beautifully, only outshone by the rich fabrics of the clothing that the ball's attendees wore. The only people that Sansa recognized were her family and the princess, who was dressed in a gown of rich, burnished gold. As the night progressed, Sansa danced with many different men, each time wondering if one of them was her mysterious prince. At the moment, she found herself lingering in the shadow of a pillar and sipping at a goblet of sweet wine, playing with a curly lock of her hair that escaped from the braided coif that kept it off of her neck.

“My lady,” a man’s deep voice came from behind her.

She turned quickly, sweeping into a curtsy as soon as she saw him bowing to her.

“My lord,” Sansa said shakily, hoping that it was the correct title.

It was hard to know, with the sea of masks around her. He lifted his head, the movement causing his hair to part and reveal dark grey eyes.

“If you would be so kind?” he said, holding one hand out to her and using the other to gesture towards the dancing courtiers.

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat and she nodded, placing her cup of wine on a nearby table.

“I would be honored,” she said, repeating the same phrase that she’d used all night.

She had no way of knowing which man was her betrothed. This man surely could not be the younger prince, for he had not objected to how she addressed him. Sansa was certain he'd correct her if he was the prince. As he led her to the floor, Sansa found herself studying his profile. She could not see much beyond the plain black mask that he wore. His clothing was rich in material and as dark as his hair and eyes. She thought he was rather handsome from what she could tell. When they began dancing, his movements were slightly slow but less clumsy than some men who she had danced with before.

“You are looking at me as though I might bite you,” the man said, his mouth quirking up out of amusement.

Sansa shook her head, snatching herself out of her thoughts.

“My apologies, my lord,” she said quickly, not wanting to offend him. “I was only wondering.”

“Wondering what?” he asked.

She hesitated before speaking, unsure of whether or not she should be blunt with him or not. When his eyes met hers, she stared into their dark grey warmth and felt compelled to be truthful.

“I am betrothed to a man that I have never met. This banquet was to be my means of meeting him but whoever came up with the idea of masks clearly did not wish for that to happen,” Sansa said in a slightly frustrated voice as they turned about the cleared space. “I have been in King’s Landing for days and my future husband has been absent that entire time. I cannot help but think that he may not wish to know me.”

“How could that be the case? Any man would be lucky to be marrying such a beautiful woman as yourself." the man asked, frowning slightly.

She sighed, only wishing that his words were true.

"Arranged marriages are not always the happiest, my lord, or so I have heard. I always dreamt that mine would be perfect but I fear that my betrothed may despise the very sight of me,” Sansa said quietly, voicing her fears.

The man leaned in close, slipping an arm around her waist.

“Impossible."

Sansa looked into his eyes as her breath caught in her throat. She felt a curious warmth spreading through her as he held her close to him, twirling her around. When he lifted her into the air effortlessly, she gasped and smiled, letting out a noise of delight. Once she was set on her feet once more, Sansa lifted her hand to press against his.

“You are quite charming, if I may say so,” she said, suddenly wishing that this very man could be her future husband.

He let out a soft laugh, making her chest swell at the sound of it.

“Perhaps I should be your charming prince, or Prince Charming if you wish,” he said, twirling her around to press her back to his chest.

Sansa’s eyes widened and her smile fell, shock taking over.

“What?” she said, unable to reconcile his words in her mind.

He simply stepped away as the music ended and the king stood from his chair at the dais, announcing that it was time to unmask. Sansa turned quickly, looking upon her dancing partner just as he reached up to untie his mask. She did the same, fumbling with the ribbons before pulling it away from her face. When she saw him fully, Sansa could not help but stare. All around them, the other dancers were bowing and curtsying to him. She heard the murmurs of ‘Your Highness’ from every direction and still did not fully understand.

“You,” she finally breathed, her heart thundering in her chest as she stepped closer.

He swept into a low bow.

“Lady Sansa,” Prince Jon Targaryen murmured.

She sank into a slow curtsy, knowing that there were eyes on both of them.

“Your Highness."

He stepped forward, offering both of his hands to her. Once she took them, he lifted her from her curtsy and gazed into her eyes.

“I would have you call me Jon, if it pleases you,” he said, still holding both of her hands in his won. “You are to be my wife, after all.”

She let out a sharp breath, hardly able to believe it. Sansa knew the custom, that she had to show an acceptance of her betrothed. She glanced around nervously, disliking that every eye in the ballroom was on them.

“Sansa,” Jon said in a hushed voice.

Her eyes returned to him as she squeezed his hands tightly.

“They’re not here, all right? It’s just you and me,” he said encouragingly.

She nodded quickly, swallowing hard before giving him a small smile.

“Jon,” Sansa whispered so that only he could hear.

She lifted herself to the tips of her toes, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He yielded, only returning the kiss after a moment before pulling away out of propriety. Sansa fought the urge to chase his lips, knowing that there would be plenty of time for that later. She flushed and smiled up at him as the people around them applauded the betrothed couple.

“Come,” Jon said, turning them towards the dais. “I would like to present my future wife to the king and queen.”

Sansa nodded in agreement before allowing him to lead her there. With a gentle squeeze of his hand, all of her fears seemed to fade away as if they had never existed at all.


	75. Canon AU - Post Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post-battle/welcome home smut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: there is smut

Sansa paced the tent anxiously as she wrung her hands, listening for any indication of what might be going on outside. The tent sat far from the battle but she’d hoped to have heard some news of which way the tide was turning. It had been going on for a day and a night and she knew that the sun was beginning to rise over the horizon. Still she could not sleep, desperate to know what was happening. When she heard heavy footsteps approaching the tent and the flap was brushed aside, she whirled around, expecting for a messenger to be there. Sansa did not expect her cousin to step in.

“Jon,” she gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

He was stripped of his armor, which meant that the battle had to be over. Yet he carried a blood-stained sword. His face and hair was wet, making it clear that he washed himself clean of dirt and blood before coming in the tent. When Jon tossed Longclaw on the ground, Sansa looked at him questioningly. He stepped towards her, pulling his tunic over his head before wiping his face with it.

“What is it?”

His face was lit by the torch in the tent, making his eyes even darker than usual. Sansa could sense the need emanating from him and it made her legs grow weak as heat pooled in her lower belly.

“Jon?” Sansa breathed as he kicked his boots off.

He closed the distance between them, his hands closing around her hips and bringing her flush against his body. She gasped at the sudden movement, her hands rising to his bare chest to brace herself.

“Are you injured?” she said, trying not to respond to the heat in his gaze.

He didn’t answer, crushing his lips to hers. Sansa let out a surprised noise before melting into the kiss. Though it was bruising in its intensity, she did not mind in the least. He had never quite kissed her this way and she found that she liked it quite a lot. Her arms wound around his shoulders as his hands tightened around her slim hips. Jon smelled of blood and sweat but she ignored that in favor of the way that he felt against her. His hands began fumbling with the laces of her dress until she heard a rip that tore her out of her hazy mind.

“What are you…?”

She did not get a chance to finish before he tugged the woolen dress down her body and kicked it away, leaving her in a thin shift. It did not take him long to divest her of that as well. Sansa watched with wide eyes as he swept everything off of a nearby table before lifting her onto it with ease.

“Are you all right?” Sansa asked, concerned as she captured his face in her hands.

It was not that he was not an eager lover, but he had never been quite this desperate. It made her fear that something had happened on the battlefield. Something bad. He nodded once in answer to her question before skimming his fingers along her sides. When he brushed his thumb over her nipple, Sansa let out a small moan and leaned her head back, finally allowing herself to succumb to her body’s desires. He rolled the hardened peak between his finger and thumb as his other hand nudged her thighs apart. Sansa bit her lip, clutching at his shoulders as his hand moved between her thighs and stroked her through the material of her smallclothes, making her whimper when he found that she was already wet with need. He quickly untied the ribbons there, tossing the smallclothes away as soon as he tugged them off of her body. Sansa felt a blush spreading over her chest at being so bared to him, especially when he nudged her legs apart. If anyone were to walk in, she would never be able to leave this tent again.

“Jon, this is madness,” Sansa whispered, reaching up to curl her fingers in his damp hair.

He ducked his head, kissing his way down her chest. Her body quivered beneath his lips as he brushed them over each of her nipples before continuing his path downwards. When he fell to his knees before her, it was clear what he intended to do. His dark eyes flitted up to hers as he trailed his lips along her inner thigh towards the tangle of auburn curls. His fingers parted her folds and he stared at her cunt as if it was a fruit to be devoured. Sansa trembled beneath his darkened gaze, her heart pounding quickly in her chest. She resisted the urge to either scramble away from him and cover herself or to seize his curls and drag his mouth down to her. As it turned out, she did not get to choose. Jon lowered his head and pressed a soft kiss to her aching sex. Just as she thought that his desperation might have drained out of him, his tongue dragged up the length of her and flicked over her clit. Sansa cried out, working her hips against his mouth as he kissed, licked, and sucked at her sensitive flesh. His hands held her tightly, pinning her to the table.

She fell back onto the table with a thump, her moans of pleasure broken up by cries of his name and pleas for more. Jon hooked her legs over his shoulders, flicking his tongue relentlessly over her heated flesh. Sansa clutched at his hair, arching off of the table as her release pulsed over her. She sobbed out his name as he relentlessly licked over her clit throughout her peak. When Sansa collapsed back against the table, he emerged from between her legs and kissed his way up her stomach and chest before guiding her hip and taking her into his arms. She clutched to him as best she could, wrapping her legs around his waist. He moved towards the small bed, handling her as though she weighed nothing. Sansa was still breathing heavily when he laid her on the furs and braced himself above her, wiping his mouth before bending down to kiss her. It was a lazy kiss, slow and deep. When his fingers stroked down her abdomen, she quickly realized his intent.

“Jon, I can’t,” she gasped against his mouth.

He hummed in response, nudging at her thighs. They fell apart far too easily, allowing his fingers to part her folds once more. She whimpered when they stroked her sensitive cunt. When one slid into her, she bit down on his lip and he groaned, grinding his hips against her leg so that she could feel his arousal. Sansa felt a pulse of desire and warmth that went straight to her woman's place. Jon must have felt her clench around him because his lips quirked upwards and another finger joined the first. He stroked her inner walls, moving them in and out before crooking them just right. Sansa let out a sharp cry as he rubbed at the spot within her. When his thumb found her clit again, she thought she might scream at the sensations that he was wringing out of her body. It only took her a few moments to realize that he was speaking in a low, husky voice.

“Gods, you feel so good, Sansa,” Jon murmured, nuzzling at her jaw. “You are so warm and wet for me, your cunt is begging for more.”

She gasped out his name, moving her hips against his hand.

“That’s right, sweet girl.”

Sansa clutched at his arm, turning her head to seek out his mouth. He obliged, kissing her deeply as his fingers quickly worked her towards another release. Her loud sounds of pleasure were swallowed by his lips and tongue as she sobbed out her peak. When she slumped back atop the furs, Jon pulled his hand away to stroke the soft skin of her thighs gently.

“Beautiful girl,” he crooned, nuzzling at her throat.

She felt him unlacing his breeches and, despite the fact that she thought that all of her capacity for pleasure was drained, her body ached for him to be inside of her.

“Too sensitive,” she whimpered as his hand brushed over her and her body jerked in response.

Jon nodded, having expected as much. He helped her sit up, kissing her softly. Her sweet, gentle lover was returning but part of Sansa wished that he would not relent quite yet. She was enjoying this new side of her Jon. When he turned her around and pushed her up onto her knees, Sansa gasped when she felt his arousal on her backside. Jon leaned her forward with her, bracing her hands on the headboard. He swept her hair to the side, kissing along her neck as he pushed her thighs apart and pulled her hips back towards him.

“Gods I love you,” he groaned.

Sansa felt the head of him brushing at her entrance and moaned, pushing back.

“I love you too,” she sighed as he pushed into her slowly.

Jon’s arm slid around her waist to hold her steady as he slid inside of her fully, groaning with relief and desperate lust. When he began driving into her, deeply and slowly, she picked up his rhythm and pushed her hips back to meet him thrust for thrust. He stroked his hands over her smooth back, pressing kisses to her shoulders as they made love. When he pulled her back against his chest and began thrusting into her that way, Sansa reached her hand behind her and stroked his hair. Her legs were spread obscenely, allowing him free movement. Jon turned her head, capturing her mouth in a kiss as he rolled her nipple between his finger and thumb.

Sansa reached between her legs after a while, knowing that she was teetering on the edge of another peak. Jon moaned when he felt that she was rubbing at her clit, his pace quickening as he struck the spot within her again and again. She felt tears running down her cheeks that he kissed away with ease. When her third release overwhelmed her, she could not hold back her loud cry of his name, knowing that anyone in the vicinity of the tent would hear her begging to Jon and the gods for him not to stop. He let out a hoarse shout as she clenched around him and Sansa knew that he was close. She rocked her hips against his, tugging on his hair lightly.

“I want you to come inside me, Jon,” Sansa whispered.

“Gods,” he groaned, his movements becoming erratic as he neared his release. “So beautiful… so… so fucking gorgeous and mine… all mine.”

She nodded in agreement, turning her head to kiss him.

“All yours."

His pleasure was muffled by their kiss as he spilled inside of her. Sansa slumped against him, too exhausted to move as he slowly maneuvered them to lie beneath the furs. She was splayed over his chest and he barely had enough energy to stroke her hair gently.

“I take it we won?” Sansa said in a soft voice.

There was a moment of silence before Jon let out a laugh.

“Aye, we won,” he replied, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

She grinned, feeling triumphant as she realized that no one would part her from her husband and king again.


	76. Modern AU - Divorce Pt 2

Sansa knew that divorcing Joffrey would not be easy. His family had no issue surrounding him with a team of lawyers to take her down. But she was determined that it would not be quite as easy as the Lannisters hoped, considering that she was a Stark and her own family was made up of more than one lawyer. Her father wasn’t able to represent her, but he sure as hell made certain that she had the second-best option.

It was almost comical, seeing Stannis Baratheon argue his way through each and every pathetic arrow that they would throw at Sansa to damage her character. He had never liked the Lannisters but in the wake of his brother’s death, Stannis didn’t even have to pretend that he did. In the end, she was paid quite the sum in alimony and allowed to keep the lease on their apartment in her name as well as all of the furniture and even Joffrey’s car. None of that truly mattered to Sansa, though she would take pleasure in selling every bit of it. All that she cared about was earning the freedom to do whatever she wanted with her life now. And there was only one thing that she wanted.

“Where is the wine?” she demanded, searching through the fridge desperately.

It was supposed to be safe in her parents' fridge. Both she and Jon knew that they could not be tempted to drink it so they put it somewhere far out of reach.

“What are you looking for?” Arya asked from the bar.

“A bottle of wine with a ribbon tied around it.”

Her sister hummed for a moment before letting out an exclamation.

“It’s in the basement fridge. Mom put it down there after Dad almost broke it open for one of their romantic nights,” she said with a slight grimace.

Sansa sighed with relief, darting out of the room.

“Why is it so important?” Arya called after her.

“I’m divorced!” she shouted back at her.

Once she found it, she let out a sigh of relief, almost wanting to kiss the chilled bottle.

“Should we celebrate here?” Catelyn asked when she ascended the stairs once more.

“Tomorrow. Jon and I have something,” Sansa said, kissing her cheek quickly before heading out of the house.

Once she reached his apartment, she opened his door with the key that he gave her months ago. Her heart was pounding as she kicked the door closed and dropped everything to the ground except for the wine.

“Pizza or Chinese tonight? I’m not really in the mood to-”

Jon cut off when he saw her enter the living room.

“What happened?” he asked, taking in her flushed face and sparkling eyes.

Sansa simply held up the wine, a grin forming on her face. His eyes widened and he dropped everything in his hands at once. It had been his idea, to buy the wine seven months ago as a celebration for the day she was finally Sansa Stark again.

“It’s done?”

She nodded, letting out a delighted laugh.

“I’m a single woman,” Sansa said, feeling even giddier at his reaction.

A smile formed on his face as he moved forward quickly. It meant a lot to the both of them, as they vowed not to have anything else between them until everything was over between her and Joffrey. Jon lifted her into his arms, twirling her around as she laughed.

“So I can finally kiss you?” he asked, pulling away to look down at her.

Sansa nodded quickly, sliding her free hand into his dark hair.

“You better do it fast though, or I’ll be tempted to take my wine and kisses to the nearest male neighbor that you have.”

She would have laughed at his eagerness when he pressed his lips to hers, but she was far too occupied. It took a lot of self-control on her part not to toss the wine away and have him right then and there. It was rather nice, being a divorcée. Sansa knew that she could get used to it pretty easily.


	77. Canon AU - Red Wedding AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A different Red Wedding AU from the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: character death, violence, murder, suicide

Sansa knew that something was wrong the moment that Uncle Edmure and his bride were carried off and the doors were barred behind them by one of the Freys. Her mother noticed it too, a frown forming on her face when the musicians began playing a terribly familiar song. As soon as she saw Roose Bolton sit down and look pointedly at her mother, Sansa’s body went into alert. Jon noticed it as well, shoving her beneath the table as soon as the musicians pulled out the crossbows. Sansa did not even register the shouts around her. She tried to pull Jon down as well, but he was determined to get to Robb. When he fell to the ground only minutes later, she let out a sob at the sight of the arrows buried in his chest. Her mother’s pleading barely reached her ears as she pulled Jon into her arms, looking down into his dark grey eyes.

“Don’t die,” she begged, her entire body shaking as the chaos around them slowly ebbed away into silence. “Don’t leave me alone.”

An overturned table blocked them from view, which was why no one was killing her yet.

“You have to go,” Jon choked out, grasping at her hand with his bloody fingers. “Please, you must leave.”

Sansa shook her head, holding him closer as his blood seeped into her dress.

“I can’t leave you,” she cried.

Just as she looked up, Sansa let out a choked wail at the sight of Lord Bolton killing Robb. Her mother’s devastated shouts echoed through the hall, cutting off abruptly in a gurgle. Sansa bent over Jon’s form, pressing her forehead to his.

“Please, you can’t die,” she sobbed, clutching at him. “You are all that I have left.”

The table was thrown to the side, revealing them.

“I love you,” Sansa said, looking down at him.

The light was already fading from his eyes.

“Please, Jon. I love you,” she declared as if her words alone would keep his soul in his body.

“Love you too,” he exhaled, squeezing her fingers with his remaining strength.

She felt rather than heard his last breath. Sansa let out a hoarse scream of his name, her body draining of the will to live as he slumped to the ground, his eyes closing forever.

“Leave her be,” she heard the raspy voice of the Lord of the Twins rang out.

She cried over his body for several minutes before gathering her strength to stand. When she finally managed it, Sansa turned to look at Lord Walder. He cackled at the sight of her covered in the blood of her husband, his dagger held in her hand. Tears still slid down her face as she stared him down. She heard the telltale sound of a bow being drawn and did not have to look to know that an arrow was pointed at her back.

“Do it,” she challenged in a soft voice.

No one made a move in her command.

“Do you think you’ll get out of here alive, Lady Stark?” Lord Walder taunted.

Sansa turned her head, looking down at Jon’s still form.

“I have one warning for you, Lord Frey,” she said, gripping the dagger tightly.

“What is that?” he huffed, amused at her words.

She looked back up at him.

“Winter will come for you,” Sansa said, lifting the dagger to hold it in both hands. “The North remembers.”

She turned the blade around, plunging it into her chest. As she fell to the ground, the life seeping out of her and her blood staining the ground, Sansa smiled at the knowledge that she would see her Jon again soon.


	78. Modern Au - Post WWII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have a complicated past and end up being reunited somehow and all the feelings come rushing back.

The day that Sansa arrived back home with her discharge papers in one hand and a small suitcase in the other, she had no idea what would await her on the other side of the door of her childhood house. She’d been only eighteen when she left, determined to join the war effort in some way. Her mother hadn’t been too happy but she sensed that her father was proud. Robb did his part, as well as his friends. If any of her younger siblings were old enough, Sansa knew that they would have done the same. Being a nurse in the war effort wasn't easy in the slightest but she was satisfied in the work that she did. Four years later and she was finally returning as the end of the war was celebrated around the world. When the door flew open, Sansa gasped and stopped short. Her suitcase slipped from her hand as Catelyn rushed out, gathering her in an embrace without hesitation.

“My baby is alive,” her mother cried, squeezing her tightly.

Sansa let out a laugh, hugging her back.

“Not a baby anymore, though I may not be living much longer if you don’t ease up a bit,” she gasped out.

Her mother pulled away with a smile, smoothing her long auburn curls away from her face.

“I’m so glad you’re home,” Catelyn said, tugging her inside.

“My suitcase,” Sansa protested.

“Oh, one of the boys will get that. You need to eat. You're far too thin.”

She had been expected this fretting. Despite the pressed uniform that she wore, her mother would always go out of her way to ensure that her children were well cared for.

“If it isn’t First Lieutenant Sansa Stark,” a voice rang out as they entered the house.

"Daddy,” Sansa said with a grin, rushing forward to hug him.

Ned hugged her close, pressing a kiss to her head.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said quietly.

Sansa drew away with tears stinging her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Her eyes flitted past him and she saw that the sitting room was filled to capacity. She felt a simultaneous swell of glee at seeing her family members and trepidation at the sight of Jon Snow standing at her older brother’s side. Robb moved forward first, though he stopped about a foot away.

“Do I owe you this then?” he asked jokingly, lifting his hand in a salute.

“Oh shut it,” Sansa said, shaking her head at him.

She embraced each of her siblings, answering Arya’s excited questions as best as she could. By the time her mother came into the room with a tray of lemonade, Sansa was recounting every detail that she could recall of her time overseas. Her younger siblings were listening with rapt attention as though they had not heard much more exciting things from Jon and Robb. Sansa excused herself to the washroom upstairs to take a breath and change her dress. She put on a dark blue garment that was much more comfortable, fitting her slim torso and flaring out slightly at her hips. She fixed her hair before stepping out as she prepared to rejoin her family. But there was someone in the hall waiting for her. Sansa gasped, pressing a hand to her heart when he startled her.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Jon said, pushing off of the wall to step towards her.

She gave him a look.

“I haven’t even been home for an hour, Jon. You should not make such assumptions.” Sansa said reproachingly, lifting her chin slightly.

“So you’re not avoiding me?”

She didn’t answer, leaning back against the wall with a sigh.

“There was something between us before,” Jon said, reaching out to take her hand in his.

She shook her head.

“Before the war? Before you enlisted and left me behind? Before we grew up?”

He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a hopeful expression in his eyes. Sansa sighed, unable to resist stepping towards him.

“It was over for us when you left for Europe,” she insisted, contradicting her actions with her words.

He shook his head, refusing to believe that.

“It wasn’t over then, Sansa Stark,” Jon said, playing with a lock of her hair. “It still isn’t over.”

She let out a whisper of his name just before his lips pressed to hers. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely as she let herself fall back into old habits, remembering how sweet it was between them before. Sansa relaxed against him, realizing that she did not want it to be over either. Thousands of miles and four years of separation still couldn’t take away her love for this man.


	79. Modern AU - Vampire Slayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa the Vampire Slayer

Sansa knew that it was only a matter of time before someone figured out her secret. If she was completely honest, she had been hoping for it to happen. She was so tired of only being able to talk to her Watcher. Oberyn was excellent at training her to fight and preparing her to deal with whatever the supernatural world decided to throw her way but he was absolutely terrible at the sympathy thing. That night, when she was faced with six vampires, he only praised her for taking them all out. Sansa felt a swell of pride at his words but also disappointment at the fact that he didn’t even seem to notice that she was bleeding profusely from several wounds. He knew that her accelerated healing would cause them to close up in no time, but it would have been nice for him to at least ask if she was okay.

Sansa knew that he cared about her in his own way. How could he not? They spent more time together than she spent with her own father. She hated that she had to sneak back in through her window. She knew to be quiet because Robb had his best friend over like he always did and they were probably playing video games in his room. If Sansa didn’t know better, she would think that Jon permanently lived at their home for how much time he spent there. She was in the process of cleaning off her wounds in the bathroom when the doorknob rattled and the door creaked open. Sansa cursed loudly but could not get there quick enough to slam it closed. Just as Jon entered, she was standing in front of him with blood still dripping down her cheek and a pile of bloody tissues on the counter.

“What the hell happened to you?” he demanded, his eyes wide and his face suddenly pale.

Sansa shushed him, pushing the door closed before locking it. She turned back to the counter, wringing her hands together anxiously.

“I’m fine,” she muttered, her mind whirling as she tried to figure out what she was going to say.

“That’s not what I asked."

Sansa lifted her eyes and saw that his face was filled with alarm at the sight of her.

“Did your boyfriend do this to you?” he questioned, anger brimming in his dark gaze.

“I broke up with Joffrey ages ago,” Sansa sighed, wiping the blood from her face.

Jon looked confused and rightfully so. She didn't tell her family about the break-up, using Joffrey as an excuse for her extracurricular activities.

“Sansa, you have to tell me what’s going on. Because I’m getting a lot of ideas in my head and none of them are good.”

She shook her head, pressing a large bandage over the wound on her forehead.

“Don’t worry about it, Jon.".

He let out a scoff.

“I’m about five seconds away from going to your brother and then your parents,” he threatened, sounding quite serious.

Sansa whirled around and pressed her hand to his chest, slamming him back into the wall with more force than necessary. She couldn't help but wince at the loud thump that it made, hoping that it didn't wake anyone up. Jon looked even more shocked at her strength, his mouth falling open.

“Don’t tell anyone,” she said in a low voice.

If her parents found out, or anyone else really, she would either be committed or arrested.

“Just give me something,” Jon said, his eyes pleading with her now.

Sansa found herself considering it, much to her surprise. Though Oberyn’s rules on the secrecy of her status as a slayer were clear, she did want to tell someone so badly that it ached in her chest.

“I’m tired tonight,” she said, stepping away from him.

Jon reached up to rub at the spot on her chest and she gave him an apologetic look, knowing that it would likely bruise.

“Come to my room tomorrow night and I’ll tell you everything,” Sansa said simply, gathering up everything before hurrying out of the bathroom before he could ask her now.

Her heart fluttered in her chest excitedly at the idea of finally revealing her secret, even though it was Jon, who she could barely call an acquaintance. She threw everything away before collapsing into bed, reminding herself to get rid of the bag of bloody tissues so that her mother wouldn't find them. Everything was going to change tomorrow. Sansa could hardly wait.


	80. Mythology AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She is a goddess and he is mortal. She is forbidden by her father or mother to pursue him but she still does in his dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This is Sansa's dress](https://www.pinterest.ca/pin/736338607815220955/), only not quite as see-through.

Sansa sat high on the roof of the keep, knowing that she could not be seen. Her father’s commands were quite clear and as much as Sansa resented them, she would obey. As light flurries of snow fell from the sky, Sansa caught them in her hand and brushed them off of her dress. When _he_ finally stepped out of the castle, she leaned forward with a smile pulling at her lips already. Snow fell off of the roof because of her movement and he paused, glancing up at the roof. She did not shy away, aware that she was invisible to his dark grey eyes. Sansa let out a soft sigh, longing to touch his face and chase the sadness from his eyes.

“So that’s him? The mortal?”

Sansa gasped, turning to look at her brother where he sat next to her. He was in a simple toga, for he did not always need to dress in armor to be the god of war.

“What are you doing here?” she questioned, wary of his intentions.

Would he remind her that she was forbidden to pursue the mortal? Would he threaten his life?

“I could feel your turmoil from far away, sister,” Robb said, glancing down at the man as he walked away. “What is his name?”

She let out a soft sigh, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“Jon,” Sansa breathed as if it was the most precious name in all the world.

As if he heard her voice speak his name, the mortal lifted his head to the sky and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Snow!” a man barked out, startling him.

Sansa frowned at the other mortal as he stomped up to Jon.

“Are you going to stand there all day or will you go about your duties before the sun sets again?” Alliser Thorne demanded with red cheeks and cold eyes.

She smiled slightly as Jon glared up at his superior before turning to walk away.

“That one I don’t like,” Sansa admitted, nodding to Thorne. “I wouldn’t mind if you struck him down.”

Robb let out a laugh, tugging on one of her long auburn curls.

“Father would not be pleased,” he reminded her.

Sansa's face twisted into a scowl at the mention of their father. Her brother sighed when he saw her anger, brushing his fingers over her porcelain cheek.

“So it is true then? You have been forbidden to know him?” Robb asked.

Sansa nodded slowly, rising to her feet. He did the same, taking her hand in his.

“I cannot pursue him in this world, though our father and mother said nothing about his dreams,” she said simply, kissing Robb on his cheek before leaping off of the roof gracefully.

She landed in the snow on light feet, leaving no trace of her steps as she followed the mortal through the castle.

*****

It was late when she crept into his small chambers, keeping her steps soundless. Sitting on the edge of his small bed, she brushed her fingers over his forehead and through the dark locks that always curled so beautifully, much to her appreciation. She closed her eyes, delving into his mind easily as he dreamed. When she opened them, she found herself standing in the midst of a vast forest. Before her, a great weirwood tree stood tall and proud, a weeping face carved into the white bark. It was one of the many ways that the mortals chose to worship the gods, her father in particular.

“Who are you?”

She whirled around just as she reached out to touch the tree, snatching her hand to press over her heart. Her mortal stood before her, his hand on the pommel of the sword that was strapped at his waist. Sansa did not know why he felt threatened, for she was hardly dangerous in this form.

“Sansa,” she answered, choosing to speak freely with him.

After all, she came into his dreams to know him better. How could he feel at ease around her if he did not know her name? He frowned, looking far too serious for a man in the midst of a lovely place in a lovely dream. Sansa wanted nothing more than to see him smile.

“I’ve come here dozens of times and you’ve never been here.”

Sansa ducked her head, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

“Shall I leave?” she asked softly.

He shook his head quickly, his eyes growing wide as he realized how offputting his suspicion was.

“No, I apologize,” Jon said, stepping towards her. “I’m just not used to seeing others here.”

She smiled at him.

“Perhaps your heart longed for companionship,” Sansa suggested.

She noticed that snow began falling and glanced up, watching as the flakes came down lightly. When she looked back at Jon, he was watching her with wonder.

“Are you not cold?” he asked, stripping off his thick, fur-lined cloak.

Sansa realized that he was alarmed by the thin dress that she always wore. When he hurried towards her to place the cloak around her shoulders, she smiled at him.

“You are very kind,” she said, pulling it tighter around her shoulders even though she did not need it.

She sat on a large boulder near the heart tree, beckoning for Jon to do the same.

“Who are you?” he asked, unable to keep his curiosity at bay any longer.

“I told you,” she replied.

He nodded in agreement, remembering her name.

“Sansa,” he sounded out.

She smiled at the sound of her name on his lips.

“And you are Jon Snow,” Sansa said, reaching out to brush her fingertips over the back of his hand.

He looked at her with shock.

“How do you know that?” Jon questioned.

“This is your dream, my love,” Sansa said, lifting her hand to stroke her fingers through his hair. “You have conjured me.”

It made her sad, to lie to him this way. But he could never know that she was real.

“I have never done that before,” Jon breathed, reaching out to touch her hesitantly as if she might disappear if he moved too quickly.

Sansa smiled at him, leaning her head into his touch as his hand laid over her cheek.

“You are lonely. Is it any surprise that you long for a companion?”

He frowned slightly.

“I am not lonely. I have my brothers and my duty,” Jon argued.

Sansa reached out, putting her hand over his chest.

“I can see your heart, Jon,” she whispered.

He took a shuddering breath.

“I took a vow,” Jon said quietly.

“Do these vows extend to your dreams?” Sansa asked, tilting her head to the side questioningly.

He finally smiled, filling her with warmth as his dark eyes shone.

“Surely my dreams are my own,” he admitted.

“Then don’t worry. You may do as you wish here,” she assured him.

He nodded in agreement before leaning in to press his forehead to hers.

“Surely you are sent from the gods, for your beauty is unmatched in my world,” Jon breathed.

Sansa shivered at his words, for how close they were to the truth.

“Thank the gods, then,” she said with a knowing smile.


	81. Modern AU - Married Fluff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The only thing Jon can cook really well is spaghetti and Sansa is pleasantly surprised.

“I don’t want you to expect too much,” Jon warned from the kitchen.

Sansa laughed where she was sitting at the table, sipping from a glass of wine as she waited for him to come out.

“Would you just get out here already?” she called back.

“I told you that I can’t cook,” he continued, sounding far more stressed than he should have.

“You told me that you can cook one thing,” she reminded him. “Get your cute butt out here, I want my spaghetti.”

Jon finally walked out, his cheeks flushed pink as he cradled two bowls of spaghetti along with garlic bread.

“You think my butt is cute?” he asked, setting her serving in front of her.

Sansa simply grinned up at him, lightly slapping the ass in question as he let out a surprised noise and then laughed at her, his nose crinkling adorably. She waited until he sat down before twirling some of the noodles around her fork.

“I feel like I’m under observation,” she said, aware of his eyes on her as he awaited her reaction.

“You are. Now take a bite.”

She stuck her tongue out at him before doing as he said, putting a generous amount into her mouth. Sansa chewed it slowly, savoring the taste as she tortured him for as long as she could. When she wrinkled her nose, his eyes widened with alarm. A laugh escaped from her mouth once she swallowed it. Sansa reached out, taking her hand in his.

“It’s amazing, Jon,” she assured him, knowing that he spent a long time trying to get the homemade tomato sauce just right. “In fact, it’s the best spaghetti I’ve ever had.”

He gave her a look, raising his eyebrow.

“You’ve been to Italy,” Jon reminded her.

“And yet, I stand by it,” Sansa replied with a shrug, getting ready to take another bite.

She nodded at him to eat as well and he did, looking triumphant when he tasted it.

“Is this as good as going to a four-star restaurant?” Jon wondered, concern in his voice.

Sansa beamed at him, lifting her glass to take a sip of wine.

“This is the best anniversary dinner ever."

Jon grinned back, looking proud and happy all at once.


	82. Modern AU - Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is a stripper helping Jon the undercover cop take down Baelish's underground brothel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: hints of noncon, nothing graphic or detailed

“Alayne, you've got a private client,” Ros said, peeping her head into the dressing rooms.

She nodded once, leaning closer to the mirror as she continued applying her eyeliner. She knew that she had to control her reaction. She couldn’t seem too eager or Petyr would figure something out.

“Another day, another pervert,” Margaery sighed next to her.

“Always,” Sansa replied, straightening up as she covered her thoughts.

She untied her robe slowly, letting it fall to her chair. Once her outfit was adjusted perfectly, Sansa let her dyed hair out of the clip that held it up, allowing the dark waves to tumble about her shoulders. She slipped on her impossibly high heels before steeling herself with a sigh. As she slipped out into the hallway, Sansa ignored the thumping bass of the music as she made her way towards the private rooms. She knew exactly which one that he would be in. It was always the same. He was a creature of habit, after all. She opened the door and slipped inside quickly, closing it behind her with a small sigh. Sansa did not look at him for as long as possible, flipping the switch that would turn on the music.

Her eyes finally as she approached slowly, her hips swaying alluringly. She knew that he didn’t need it, but the video cameras did. They had to put on a good show. He stared back at her, his eyes impossibly dark in the dim light of the room. He looked so damn good, as always. His suit jacket lay discarded over the back of the couch and his dress shirt was undone, the sleeves rolled up to his elbow. His tie hung loose, only adding to his disheveled look. Her legs straddled his thighs as she sank onto his lap. The couch was comfortable but his body held all the tension of a statue. Sansa stared into his eyes, refusing to allow herself to feel uncomfortable. He smelled incredible, just as he always did. Her body reacted immediately, her skin tingling at the warmth that seeped through his clothing.

“What’s happening?” she whispered.

“I need to ask you the same."

She moved her hips, dancing to the music as convincingly as she could. It wasn’t that hard, giving a lap dance to a considerably handsome man.

“The same people have come in, but someone new as well,” Sansa murmured, tilting her head back.

“Who?”

She bit down on her lip, feeling his arousal pressing into her. He was always embarrassed by it, his cheeks flushing as if she hadn’t felt it from every other man that she gave a lap dance. With Jon it was different. Sansa knew that he wouldn't touch her.

“Someone that I had to hide from,” she said quietly, bending her head down over his.

The curtain of her long hair covered his face as he sighed deeply. His breath washed over her skin and made her shiver.

“A Lannister,” Jon realized.

“They have something to do with Petyr’s… trade. I saw them hand him a large envelope. When I went into his office-” Sansa hesitated, knowing that he was aware of what she meant.

Jon tensed even more, if possible, his hands clenching into fists.

“What did he do to you?” he muttered.

“Nothing that you need to worry about. When I went into his office, he had to leave for a few minutes. I found the files in a drawer. Petyr never thinks that I’m smart enough to look around so he leaves me there. They were pictures of a bunch of girls. They looked young and messed up like-”

“They were drugged?” Jon finished for her.

Sansa nodded once as she reached up, stroking her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. She knew that she was trembling as she always did when this happened. Every time, she was so afraid that Petyr would figure something out and do something to hurt Jon.

“Touch me,” she murmured.

He hesitated, inhaling sharply. The rules of the club prohibited such a thing unless one of the dancers made it clear that it was all right.

“Jon please,” Sansa pleaded.

He put his hands on her hips, guiding her movements. She let her eyes fall closed as her lips trailed over his throat. This was the only touch that had soothed her in years, since her parents died and her siblings were forced to scatter in fear that they too would be killed. Sansa had sought protection with her Aunt Lysa, who in turn introduced her to Petyr. She thought that he was her saving grace at the time. He quickly proved her wrong.

“When is this going to be over?” Sansa said quietly.

“Soon,” Jon answered.

She quickened her movements, shaking her head slightly so that only he could hear it.

“That’s not good enough. I need to get out of here, Jon. This place is going to kill me,” she said, tears filling her eyes.

“I’ll get you out of here,” Jon promised, his voice strained.

Sansa let out a sharp exhale, swallowing the tears as she pulled away, curling her hand over his cheek.

“You keep saying that, yet I’m still here.”

Guilt flashed in his eyes and she felt bad, hating that she was blaming him. But anger was stirring in her chest, aimed at the Lannisters, at Petyr, at herself, and at her parents for dying even though it was not their choice. His hands tightened on her hips, grounding her to a halt.

“I will get you out of here, Sansa,” he repeated.

She let out a sigh, nodding her head.

“I know you will.”

With that, Sansa clambered off of his lap, trying to ignore the heat between her thighs. Jon dug in his pocket, ignoring the arousal that must not have been comfortable for him. She knew the drill. He never wanted her to give him relief, always ending the session before it could go too far. When he handed over a wad of cash, Sansa took it and stepped back as she shoved it into her bra.

“Thank you,” she said softly before turning away, switching off the music as she walked out.

Sansa had to hold onto the hope that he would get her out. If she didn’t, then she wouldn’t have anything left to live for.


	83. Modern AU - New Year's Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tipsy Sansa

In his wildest dreams, Jon still could not have not imagined any scenario in which Sansa Stark ended up on his lap a few minutes before the clock struck midnight and they entered a new year. So when she plopped down there like she belonged without a care in the world, he was dumbfounded, to state it mildly. His reaction was better than Robb’s, whose eyes almost bugged out of his skull at the sight of his little sister sitting in his best friend’s lap. Luckily, his girlfriend had the good sense to distract him from the scene. Margaery began peppering Robb with questions about his resolutions, knowing full well that he never kept to them. When Jon looked up at Sansa with a stunned expression, she simply smiled back down at him, sliding her arm around his shoulders as she leaned into his chest.

“Are you drunk?” he questioned warily.

“Only slightly tipsy, Jon Snow. I have enough control of my faculties to know exactly what I’m doing right now but I’m loose enough to be able to do what I’ve wanted for…years,” Sansa shrugged, taking a sip of her drink before setting it to the side. “Do you want me to move?”

He shook his head, putting an arm around her waist. _It’s only to steady her,_ he told himself insistently. After all, Jon didn’t want her to fall off if she moved too quickly. He flexed his hand at her hip experimentally, receiving a radiant grin in return. His own smile was instinctive, because who couldn’t respond to such a look on her beautiful face?

“What is _your_ resolution?” Sansa asked, stroking her fingers through his hair.

Jon took a few moments to find his voice.

“I’m not sure that I have one."

She pouted at him, looking quite disappointed only to get over it in the next moment.

“I have one,” Sansa announced to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder.

Jon barely heard her as her fruity perfume filled his senses and caused his mind to spin as he tried to comprehend exactly what was happening.

“What is it?” he asked, his voice sounding far away to his ears as he stared up at her dazedly.

He was certain that he looked like a fool, gazing at her like she was the most beautiful thing alive. He'd only been silently pining after her for a few years, after all.

“To do impossible things,” Sansa answered, looking proud of herself.

“That’s… good?” Jon said, not too certain of what she meant.

She made a noise of agreement, giving him a firm nod.

“Starting with my midnight kiss. I have told myself for the last three years that it would be impossible to get a kiss out of you but I am determined to prove myself wrong. Will you help me?”

Her eyes were wide and imploring, practically begging him to agree with her. It was really unnecessary because Jon probably would have agreed to just about anything she asked him to do, pleading look or not. He nodded slowly, his heart thundering away in his chest. Sansa grinned once more, laying her head on his shoulder.

“I knew you would come through.”

Jon felt a comforting warmth spreading through him as he reached up hesitantly, playing with a lock of her long hair.

“Is that all it’s going to be?” he asked after a few minutes.

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, knowing that he should shut up before he ruined everything. But he had to know.

“We’re just going to kiss and then you’ll move onto your next impossible thing?”

Sansa hesitated, placing her hand over his heart.

“My next impossible thing has to do with you too,” she admitted carefully

“What’s that?” he asked too quickly.

She didn’t seem to care, smiling slightly at his eagerness.

“Getting you to ask me on a date."

Jon remained silent at first, processing her words. When he opened his mouth to reply, she put her finger over his lips. Sansa pushed herself up again, staring into his eyes.

“Resolutions don’t count until after the year is new, Jon,” she said sternly.

He nodded in agreement, once again knowing that he would do whatever she asked of him.

“It’s time!” Margaery announced gleefully.

She turned up the volume on the television just as the final minute’s countdown began. Jon couldn’t tear his eyes away from Sansa’s bright blue ones. He tugged her closer, tangling his fingers in her hair. She smiled down at him, wrapping both of her arms loosely around his neck. As the final ten seconds were shouted loudly by everyone in the room except for them, their faces slowly drew closer. Just as the raucous cheer came out of the television, their lips pressed together. Jon pulled her as close as he could, tasting the slightest hint of champagne in her mouth as they kissed deeply. It was all-consuming, making everything and everyone else disappear. Sansa nibbled on his lip softly, letting out a sigh as he delved into her mouth. By the time they pulled away, both were breathing deeply with matching grins on their faces. A whistle sounded from somewhere near them but neither paid attention.

“So…” Jon said, brushing her hair out of her face. “Will you go out to dinner with me?”

Sansa beamed at him, nodding quickly before drawing him in for another kiss.


	84. Canon AU - Divergent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa comforting Jon after Ned is executed.

Sansa had never seen Jon so furious. He did not show his emotions as easily Robb did, except for in very specific circumstances. She did not have to search far to find in him the training yard. It was where he always ended up when he was angry. He wielded a sword, slamming it down on a dummy again and again. His face was red and twisted with devastation and fury. She knew who his rage was aimed at and half-wished that the Lannisters were there so that they could be on the receiving end of his anger instead of the straw dummy. When the sword failed to help him feel better, Jon threw it to the side and began slamming his fists into the dummy. Her heart pounded in her chest as she stepped forward, aware that the watching servants were scared of her cousin’s actions. When Jon decided that even hitting the dummy wasn’t enough, she let out a cry of shock when he aimed a punch at the stone wall of the castle.

“Jon!”

Sansa flew forward, taking his hand in hers as she stepped between him and the wall. His knuckles were swollen and bleeding. He trembled violently before her, tears pouring down his cheeks. Jon let out a strangled noise after a moment, his knees buckling beneath him. Sansa sank down onto the ground with him, careless of her pristine dress and whoever may be watching them.

“You hurt yourself,” she murmured, knowing that he might have even broken more than one of the bones in his hand.

Jon lifted his head, looking straight into her eyes with his tormented gaze.

“I’m going to kill them,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m going to King’s Landing and I’m going to kill every single one of those Lannister bastards!”

Sansa shushed him, putting her hands on his cheeks.

“Hush, my love,” she said quietly, pressing her forehead to his as tears ran down her own cheeks. "Their time will come."

Jon nodded, knowing that she was right. Sansa had known that she wanted the Lannisters dead since they killed her direwolf. She made the right decision when she fled from the camp and rode back to Winterfell. Queen Cersei had been furious and demanded that she be returned but no one in the North dared to force her to do so with Jon and Robb standing as her protectors. When her brother and cousin rode south, she did the same in spite of the many disagreements that ensued. Sansa had just as much right to see the Lannisters brought to justice.

“I’ll bring you their heads,” Jon said, looking deep into her eyes. “Every single one of them.”

Sansa nodded in agreement, knowing that he would do just as he promised.

“We have to get Arya back,” she whispered, stroking her hands over his cheeks. “Then you can bring me their heads.”

Jon nodded as well, leaning in to kiss her deeply.


	85. Modern AU - Handyman!Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa being next-door neighbors and Sansa likes to call Jon over to help her with handyman stuff because she doesn't know how to do things like fix a leaky pipe but she also likes to watch him work.

Sansa sat up on her kitchen counter, chewing on her lower lip as she gazed down at absolutely incredible view on the floor. Jon lay on his back, his head and most of his chest hidden by the sink that he was working on. But, as he stretched to reach the leaky pipes, his t-shirt rode up enough that she could see the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath his faded jeans.

“You’re my hero,” she informed him, trying and likely failing to keep the husky appreciation out of her voice.

Jon didn’t need to know just how good he looked when he fixed up the various problems in her apartment. They lived in an old building and it was expected. That was why he offered to help her whenever she needed it. Sansa was hopeless when it came to fixing things and that was half the reason that she called on him so much. He let out a quiet laugh from beneath the sink.

“I’m glad to help,” Jon replied, dropping his arms and tugging his shirt down, much to her disappointment. "It should be working now if you want to check.“

She leaped off of the counter, stepping around his splayed legs to get to the faucet. Sansa reached out to turn it on, a frown of confusion forming on her face when nothing happened. Suddenly, she heard the sound of spurting water and Jon let out a blistering curse. Sansa turned the faucet off as quickly as she could but it was too late. He sat up quickly, slamming his head on a pipe and letting out a groan of pain.

"I’m so sorry!” she cried, dropping to her knees.

Jon eased his way out of the sink, prodding at his forehead with a wince. His shirt was soaked with water, plastered to his torso in a way that she would admire eagerly. But now was not the time. Sansa pulled his hand away to make sure that he wasn’t bleeding. Luckily he wasn't, but she could already see a red mark that would likely turn into a bruise.

“I’ll get you some ice,” she said with a grimace.

He looked up at her, a few errant curls falling in his face.

“I’ll survive,” Jon assured her, the look in his dark grey eyes sending warm shivers down her spine.

Sansa stood up quickly, berating herself as she turned to her fridge.

“I can dry that shirt for you if you want,” she said, cursing the words as soon as they came out of her mouth.

“Thanks,” Jon replied as he stood up behind her.

By the time she turned back with a towel full of ice, Sansa gaped at him openly. He had already taken his shirt off, revealing his upper body to her in full. The towel crashed to the ground, sending ice everywhere. She didn’t care, moving towards him hesitantly.

“Wow,” Sansa breathed simply before pushing up to press her lips to his.

Jon’s arms wound around her, clutching her close as they kissed deeply and without ceasing. By the time they broke away, both were breathing heavily and staring into each other’s eyes with matching stunned expressions.

“That’s definitely better than ice,” Jon admitted, staring at her with a dark, thrilling gaze.

She couldn't help but let out a light giggle before pulling him down for another kiss.


	86. Author's Note

This is not an update but I just wanted to let you all know that if you have a drabble prompt idea that you'd like to see me write, you are more than welcome to comment on any of the chapters with that prompt and I'd be happy to write it! You're also welcome to go to my tumblr account - snowsinthenorth - and send me prompts, or just any kind of message because I love talking to people.


	87. Canon AU - Revenge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future!JonXSansa both think the other is dead and are leading attacks to seek revenge on the people who killed the last members of their family (basically Sansa against NW traitors and Jon against the Lannisters/Baelish). Somehow they find out that the other is alive and fighting to avenge them *feels* and they are reunited.

There was only one place left for her to go. She knew without a doubt that he would be there soon enough. Sansa rode hard, forcing her guard to keep up with her. By the time they made it to the Twins, she felt confident that House Frey knew exactly what awaited them.

“What are we waiting for, Your Grace?” Brienne asked beside her.

Sansa did not answer, looking to the sky. Ghost was anxious at her side, though he was still and silent as ever. She reached out to touch him, stroking her fingers through his fur. Jon had sent him to her as a message and as protection many months ago, making it clear that he intended to find her.

“That,” she finally said when a large shadow appeared in the distance. 

The men around her gasped and muttered amongst themselves at the sight of the approaching beast. She did not have to see the rider to know. Sansa turned to look over her shoulder at her army, a force of men who had joined her cause when she fled from the Eyrie.

“For my brother!” she shouted, receiving a roar in response.

This time, the armies of the North did not treat with Walder Frey to avoid a fight. The same men who took part in the Red Wedding were slaughtered with Sansa at the forefront. No one dared to come near her, fearful of the pure white direwolf at her side. When they reached the keep where Walder Frey hid away like a coward, Sansa ordered the courtyard cleared. Then she stood in wait with Brienne on one side and Ghost on the other. Her army had the Twins surrounded on both sides of the river, ensuring that they received no assistance within. In time, the dragon descended on the courtyard slowly, making the ground beneath her feet shake as it landed.

Brienne shifted nervously but the Queen in the North did not flinch even as the hot breath of the great creature washed over them. Sansa watched as Jon climbed off of the dragon's back carefully, dropping to the ground before lifting his head to meet her eyes. They moved forward at the once, throwing themselves into an embrace without hesitation. Sansa felt such joy and exhilarating relief, now that she was with family again after so many years. When she briefly wondered if Jon felt the same, he seemed to read her thoughts, pulling away to look down into her eyes.

“Sansa,” Jon breathed out, putting his hands on her cheeks.

She exhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a moment.

“They call me a queen,” Sansa whispered.

Jon let out a chuckle and she opened her eyes.

“They call me a king,” he replied.

She smiled and shook her head, unable to truly believe how much had changed since she last saw the boy she called her bastard brother. He was a boy no longer with a crown of black iron and rubies on his dark locks and a short beard covering his chin and jaw. She could feel his muscles beneath her hands and knew for certain that he was a man now.

“I was a bastard once,” Sansa informed him.

Jon nodded, knowing of her time as Alayne Stone.

“As was I."

She laughed and pulled him into a hug once more, knowing that she could allow herself to feel joy once more. When the doors to the keep opened and two of her men stood there, they both turned to look.

“Lord Frey has granted you an audience,” one man said with a smirk, knowing exactly what awaited the elderly lord.

Sansa looked over at Jon and he nodded, slipping his hand into hers. She entwined their fingers as they strode forward together to take their last revenge.


	88. Princess Bride AU

Sansa stood before the heart tree in the godswood, tears staining her cheeks and a crumpled letter clutched in her hand. That is where Robb found her, wanting to know what news came from his friend. Without speaking, she handed him the parchment that spoke of her beloved’s death by the fire of Daenerys Targaryen’s dragons. Jon was supposed to find work in Pentos and send for her when he was settled. There would be no barriers then. Nothing to keep them from loving each other for the rest of their lives. But it was not meant to be. Sansa wanted to scream and rage, to tear apart the letter and refuse to believe it. But that would do nothing to change the truth. So she hardened her heart and dried her tears, turning away from the gods that she had prayed to for his safety.

“I will never love again,” Sansa said, her voice void of emotion.

She kept that vow, even when the king came to Winterfell with his princely son. Sansa did nothing to either encourage or discourage Joffrey’s advances but it didn’t matter. They were betrothed within a fortnight and she was taken back to King’s Landing to be presented as their future princess. Sansa went through her days in a trance, wandering the Red Keep like a ghost. Sometimes she looked out over the Blackwater Bay and dreamed of a life where she might have crossed the Narrow Sea and joined Jon, raising their children in a small manse. Instead, she would be given a crown and she would bear the heir to the Iron Throne.

The only joy that she could find was in her daily rides through the Kingswood. Joffrey insisted upon a guard but that did not stop three bandits from killing the two knights and taking her captive. As they sailed to Dorne, her kidnappers revealed themselves to be sellswords hired by Balon Greyjoy. The Lord of the Iron Islands was determined to start a war that would destroy the Starks and Lannisters. They were certain that there was no better way than to kill Joffrey’s betrothed and Lord Stark's daughter on the shores of the Westerlands. 

Little did they know that a ship followed them from afar, holding a man dressed all in black.


	89. Canon AU - Sharing a Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa having to make do with a twin bed

“No.”

Jon looked up at Sansa with surprise, catching sight of the stubborn set of her jaw.

“Sansa..."

She shook her head and held her hand up, refusing to allow him to continue.

“You are not going to sleep on the floor,” Sansa said insistently.

“The bed is too small for both of us and I’m certainly not going to make you sleep on the floor,” Jon argued.

“It’s not too small for both of us. Unless you plan to force me into that bed, we are both sleeping in it.”

He knew that trying to dissuade her was futile, huffing out a sigh as he unclasped his cloak. Sansa looked triumphant, doing the same before removing her riding boots. As uncomfortable as she looked in breeches and a tunic at the beginning of their journey, she seemed quite used to the clothing now. She was also more comfortable with the crowded inns that they stayed in, not even complaining when the innkeeper informed them that this dingy room was the only one that he had available.

“How did you know that I was going to insist on letting you have the bed?” Jon asked as she sat on the end of the straw mattress.

“I can read you quite well,” she replied, tugging her hair out of the tangled braid to run her fingers through it. “You put the needs of others above yourself all too often.”

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow, tugging his own boots off.

“Most people don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Jon reminded her.

She smiled slightly, looking up at him with a shine in her eyes that he hadn’t seen since he whisked her away from the Vale. Jon couldn’t even remember the last time she’d directed that look towards him, if she ever had. Sansa had changed in her time at the Red Keep and the Vale, something that made him more sad than happy. The Lannisters and Baelish had crushed the youth and innocence from his cousin when she deserved a life full of kindness and love.

“It’s not a bad thing. I just refuse to allow you to suffer all night while I sleep soundly,” Sansa said, shaking her head as she tugged him down on the bed.

They both laid on their sides, awkwardly trying to avoid touch as they slipped beneath the furs. Finally, Sansa sighed frustratedly and turned over, looking into his eyes before reaching out to fist her hand in his tunic.

“What are you doing?” Jon asked as she pushed him to his back and pressed her body close to his.

“As I said, I plan on sleeping comfortably tonight,” Sansa replied, laying her head over his heart.

He remained tense for several minutes, his mind spinning with all the thoughts of impropriety and what Robb might have done if he was around. But Robb wasn't there. None of the rest of them were. Apart from himself, Sansa was all that was left. If she saw no issue with it, then why should he argue? As he finally relaxed, she hummed out her approval and shifted closer to him. He told himself that he only wrapped an arm around her to keep her warm. It had nothing to do with how good she felt curled into his side.


	90. Modern AU - Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stop."

Sansa realized her mistake all too late. Jon asked her if she wanted to leave the party when they realized that Joffrey was there. She refused, determined not to let her horrible ex ruin her out, especially when their friends were there. She enjoyed herself for a time and found herself still grinning over Pyp and Grenn’s jokes as she headed for the bathroom. She didn’t know that he was watching her and that he saw it when she left the others. As she stepped out only to see Joffrey waiting on her, Sansa felt a moment of panic and reached for her phone instinctively. Joffrey stopped her and all but shoved her up against the wall.

“Joffrey stop,” she said, struggling against his hold.

“Why? You really want to pretend you didn’t come here for me?”

Sansa shook her head, preparing to scream as loud as she could. Before she could, Joffrey’s tight grip disappeared as Jon threw him into the opposite wall before punching him soundly. Just as her boyfriend started towards Joffrey again, she caught his arm.

“Jon!” Sansa said loudly as he let out a string of curses. “Jon, stop!”

She turned him to face her, gently placing her hands on his cheeks. His eyes were filled with fury as he trembled in her arms.

“I’ll kill him,” Jon said in a low, furious voice.

Sansa blinked in surprise at his words yet she knew that they were not like him at all. He was not a normally violent person but Joffrey was a special case for them all. Jon was one of the first that Sansa told everything and he was determined to keep her safe from ever experiencing Joffrey’s violence again.

“No Jon,” she said, shaking her head as tears stung her eyes. “Just get me out of here.”

He took a deep breath before pulling her in, kissing her forehead gently.

“Come on,” Jon said, leading her away.

Sansa felt a rush of gratitude and appreciation for him, knowing how much self-control it had to have taken for him to walk away from Joffrey like that. He did it for her. She didn’t need any further proof that he was the best person for her.


	91. Modern AU - Biker Gang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Sansa at some kind of bar or night club being badass. Maybe Jon is a biker or Sansa is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one might turn into a multi-chapter fic at some point but for now, I'm keeping it at this drabble.

It was strange, how a place could look the exact same but feel so different all at once. Sansa could not help but remember her final words as she left the very bar she was walking towards all those years ago. 

_“I will never come back here again!”_

It felt liberating then, driving out of town without looking back. Now she desperately wished that she could change it all. As soon as she pushed the door open, it felt like she was a child again. She’d grown up here, playing with her dolls behind the bar and watching cartoons in the back room with her siblings. Robb leaped up from where he was sitting at the bar, looking so much older and yet still the same. She braced herself for anger and shouting but instead, he hurried forward and gathered her into a tight hug. Sansa returned it with a heavy sigh, burying her face in her brother’s shoulder.

“How?” she said simply, her voice barely above a whisper.

“The Lannisters."

Sansa squeezed her eyes shut against the tears that threatened to overtake her, refusing to cry where everyone could see her. She knew that she would see a dozen familiar faces if she looked around, all with the same grim expression.

“Where is he?” she asked, drawing away from Robb.

He nodded at the meeting room and she took a deep breath, giving him a kiss on his bristly cheek and patting his leather-clad arm before heading towards the door. Sansa knocked but knew that she did not need to wait for an invitation, stepping inside the dimly lit room. It looked the exact same as it had five years ago, with a large oak table in the center of the room with a large wolf carved into the surface. There were only two people in the room, the president of the charter and his sergeant-at-arms. Sansa only had eyes for the former, walking to stand behind her father where he sat at the head of the table. She bent down, wrapping her arms around him loosely as she laid her chin on his shoulder. Ned took a deep breath, reaching up to clutch at her arm with one hand. The other was holding a familiar wedding ring. Sansa swallowed the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” she whispered, knowing that there was nothing else to say.

He let out a soft sob, gripping her arm tighter as he shook his head.

“No,” Ned said in a rough voice. “I’m sorry. You were right about everything.”

Sansa knew exactly what he was referring to, the words she’d screamed at him before leaving this room for the last time.

_“This life is going to kill all of us!”_

She took a shaking breath, looking up at Jon where he sat at her father’s right. He stared back, his grey eyes turned even darker by the dim light of the room. Just like Robb, he looked older, yet still like the young boy that she remembered. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to reveal a tattoo of a rose on his forearm, his mother's name scrawled in beautiful cursive along the stem.

“I’m here now,” Sansa said, finding strength in Jon’s steady gaze. “I won’t leave again.”

She knew that it wouldn’t be easy but they were going to need her. Catelyn had been the backbone of the Stark family, always holding them up even when it seemed like they would collapse under the weight of the club. Now her mother was gone, gunned down outside of her own home, and Sansa would be needed more than ever.


	92. Modern AU - Magic Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll carry you, hold still or it'll hurt more."

Sansa hated that she let Arya get to her again. The worst part of it was that her little sister's words always hit so close to home, like she could read Sansa's mind and tell what would push her buttons the best. This time, it was about Jon. How Arya could tell that Sansa had a crush on him, she didn’t know. It was a recent development, only happening when he came to their summer cabin with Robb after she hadn’t seen him for two years. He was almost painfully attractive, with his dark curly hair and lean form. There was one thing she knew for certain and it was that Jon had never looked this good, or she had never noticed. Either way, it was something that she tried to hide as best she could. Until her father commented on the appropriateness of her swimsuit, Sansa thought that she was doing a good job.

_“She’s just wearing it so that she can impress Jon, like he's really gonna notice her like that.”_

Arya’s words wouldn’t stop running through her head, infuriating her more and more. It was probably true. Jon would never look twice at her. She was just Robb's stupid little sister. It was a good thing that he wasn’t in the room at the time or she would have been even more humiliated. Sansa stomped through the woods, careless of the fact that she wore sandals. She should have paid more attention because the next thing she knew, her ankle was caught between two roots. She let out a loud cry when it twisted painfully, falling forward on her hands and knees. As she turned over to sit down, she let out a quiet whimper at the sight of her skinned and bleeding knees before touching her ankle. Tears sprung to her eyes as it throbbed painfully and she leaned back against the tree behind her, suppressing the urge to let out a string of blistering curses. When she heard hurried footsteps, Sansa had a sinking feeling that it was the one person she didn’t want to see. Sure enough, Jon ran into view and looked at her with wide eyes.

“Are you all right?” he asked, approaching her quickly.

Sansa gave him a look, silently letting him know how stupid the question was. She was crying and bleeding on the ground and she was still humiliated by what happened. Of course she wasn’t okay. She bit her tongue to hold her sharp words back.

“What hurts the worst?” Jon asked, his hands hovering over her.

 _My dignity,_ she had the urge to reply. Instead, Sansa waved her hand at her ankle and he brushed his fingers over the swelling spot. She shuddered and her breath caught in her throat at the soft touch. Jon misread her reaction for pain rather than what it truly was.

“It might be a sprain.”

Sansa belatedly remembered that he was certified in first aid and studying to go to medical school.

“I’m fine,” she said hoarsely, determined not to make more of a fool of herself. “Help me up, please.”

Jon looked up at her with a frown.

“I’m not sure if you should walk on this,” he warned her, his dark grey eyes serious.

“I can handle a little pain,” Sansa replied stubbornly.

He sighed and offered her his hands, helping her up carefully. As soon as Sansa tried to put weight on the ankle, she cried out and slumped towards the ground again. Jon caught her, holding her against him.

“I’ll carry you."

Sansa looked at him with wide eyes and began shaking her head. Before she could insist that she was fine again, he swept her up into his arms effortlessly. She might have swooned if she wasn’t so annoyed and embarrassed.

“This is stupid,” she muttered, struggling in his arms as her cheeks reddened.

“Hold still or it’ll hurt more,” Jon warned her.

She huffed out a sigh but grew still, allowing him to carry her back to the house.

“I don’t want to see Arya,” Sansa said, knowing that she looked and sounded petulant with her arms crossed over her chest.

Jon’s mouth quirked upwards.

“You fought again?” he asked, glancing down at her.

“No, she said something rude and I walked out. Then, of course, this happened.”

He looked even more amused.

“What did she say?” Jon questioned.

Sansa averted her gaze, glowering at the passing trees.

“Nothing."

They both fell silent for the rest of the short walk. Sansa was torn between relief and frustration as they made it back to the lake house. Catelyn fussed over her as soon as he walked through the door but Sansa brushed her off.

“I can patch her up, Mrs. Stark,” Jon volunteered, knowing that she had her hands full with Bran and Rickon.

“Thank you, Jon,” Catelyn sighed.

Sansa glared at her mother’s back, unable to convince Jon to drop her off in her own room. Instead, he deposited her on his bed before crossing to his duffel bag.

“I’m fine,” she said, sitting up as she considered whether or not to make a break for it.

It wouldn’t work, as she would probably fall down again.

“You keep saying that and somehow I don’t believe you,” Jon replied, pulling the first-aid kit out.

Sansa didn’t speak as he cleaned the wounds on her knees before putting bandages on the scrapes.

“How does your ankle feel now?” Jon asked, wrapping his hand around her calf to straighten her leg out, placing her foot on a pillow.

“It hurts,” she said simply.

He let out a small laugh, sitting down next to her.

“Unfortunately, I don’t have any magic cures for a sprain in my duffel,” Jon said, looking up at her through his thick dark lashes.

It was unfair, for a guy to have such pretty eyes.

“Maybe you should kiss it,” Sansa said sarcastically.

His face lit up with a grin.

“There is magic in kisses,” Jon agreed.

Her eyes widened at his words.

“I didn’t mean…”

Sansa cut off as he lowered his mouth, tenderly brushing it over the skin of her ankle. She shivered, instinctively reaching up to curl her fingers in his dark hair.

“Jon,” she whispered.

He looked up at her, a heated look in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Suddenly, Sansa wondered if he was as oblivious as she thought. All thoughts were chased from her mind as he leaned up and pressed a kiss to her mouth gently. She deepened the kiss, nibbling on his lower lip as he gasped and brought his hands up to her cheeks.

“Hey, Mom thought that… what the hell?”

They broke apart, both looking to the door where Arya was standing with a bag of ice and a towel. Her eyes were wide as she looked between them. Sansa fought the overwhelming urge to send her a triumphant look.

“Thanks Arya,” Jon said, crossing to the door to take the ice away from her.

He ruffled her hair before stepping back and kicking the door closed. Sansa grinned as he returned to the bed, sitting down next to her.

“This will make it feel better,” he said quietly, placing the ice atop her ankle.

She shook her head, fisting her hand in his shirt to draw him in once more.

“I want more magic kisses.”


	93. Modern AU - Ghost is cockblocking Jon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Puppy ghost is being trained and when jon Is trying to flirt and make a move on Sansa he keeps getting in the way.

Sansa watched with a slight smile as Ghost was led away by his collar. When he had him safely locked up in the bathroom, Jon turned back towards her with a huff.

“Now why did you have to do that? He was just trying to be sweet,” she said in a scolding tone.

Jon simply frowned as he walked back over to sit on the couch next to her.

“No, he knew exactly what he was doing,” he said, shaking his head.

She lifted her eyebrows at him.

“And what is that?” Sansa challenged.

“Getting in the way."

She stared at him expectantly.

“In the way of what?”

He gave her a glare, knowing now that she was messing with him. Sansa was aware of exactly what Ghost was doing as well. Jon knew that she was pushing him to make a move, now that there wasn’t a big fluffy barrier between them. He finally took a deep breath and worked up the courage, leaning in to give her a kiss. Sansa responded eagerly, kissing him back as her hand cradled his cheek. Jon’s arms wrapped around her, pulling her in close until she straddled his lap. When they broke away for air, he looked at her expectantly.

“Do you understand now?” he asked.

She considered it for a moment before nodding with a grin.

“I think so but maybe we should kiss again so that I can make sure,” Sansa decided.

Jon grinned at her before leaning in to capture her lips once more. Ghost whined in the bathroom, probably sensing that he wasn’t getting the chance to cockblock his owner again. Jon and Sansa both ignored him, too enveloped in each other to pay him any mind.


	94. Canon AU - Time Travel Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon goes to the Vale.

Jon envisioned several possibilities that awaited him as he headed for the Vale. The sight that greeted him was not one of them. He didn’t even get within three days of the Eyrie before he was met with a small army led by his cousin. Sansa was alerted to his presence as soon as he mentioned his name. Her smile had been radiant as she approached and she smelled of rose oil when she embraced him. As Sansa pulled away, Jon could not keep his eyes off of her as she crouched down, stroking her fingers through Ghost’s fur with a brilliant smile on her face.

“I've dreamt of reuniting with you, dear Jon,” she announced once she rose, looping her arm through his to walk through the camp.

“You have?” he said, surprised at her words.

Jon was convinced that it would take much more to earn her favor and even more than that to earn her love.

“Oh yes. I have been a bastard too, you know,” Sansa informed him.

He did know that, but only because of the stories she told him in the future that had not happened yet.

“Everything that has happened to me in the South has changed my view of the world entirely. I cannot help but feel horrible for the way I treated you when we were younger. Though we are no longer brother and sister, can you ever forgive me?” she asked as they reached her tent, her blue eyes wide and pleading.

“Of course,” Jon said, bowing his head to her as he realized that she knew of their true relation.

She hugged him again, breathing out his name.

“Not that I am not happy but I must ask why you have come,” Sansa said, waving her guards off before allowing him into her tent.

“I came to—” Jon cut off, feeling ridiculous now that he was about to say it aloud.

She gave him a questioning look, pouring wine for them both.

“What is it, Jon?” Sansa questioned, handing him one of the cups.

He took a long, fortifying drink before speaking.

“I came to take you out of the Vale,” he muttered, his cheeks flushing as he realized how ridiculous it sounded.

Sansa stared at him with a surprised gaze before her smile returned, spreading slowly across her face as she leaned in and placed a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I apologize, sweet Jon,” she said, taking his hand in hers. “I ruined your brave rescue. I thought it foolish to wait for someone to come take me away and decided to do so myself. Perhaps if I had waited a few more days, you could have carried me down the mountain yourself.”

If anyone else had been speaking these words, Jon would have been certain that they were mocking him. But coming from Sansa, it only sounded quite genuine as he knew of her taste for romantic stories.

“Perhaps I am destined to save you in another way,” Jon said, sitting down with her when she gestured for him to do so.

“Oh you have done so already!”

He looked at her with questioning eyes as she reached out and patted Ghost’s head.

“I've been feeling quite lonely these past few days. By being here alone, you have already lifted my spirits.”

Jon smiled at her and reveled in the grin he received in return. It wasn’t exactly how he envisioned it but it did not matter. He was only happy to have found her.


	95. Modern AU - Vampire Slayer Pt 2

Sitting cross-legged upon her bed, Sansa watched Jon quietly as he processed the story that she told him. He paced back and forth across her bedroom, rubbing at the back of his neck like he always did when he was thinking.

“You think I’m crazy,” she sighed, leaning back against her headboard.

Jon hesitated for several moments before shaking his head. She watched him with wide eyes as he climbed onto the bed, sitting in front of her.

“I think you’re brave and so incredibly strong,” he said, reaching out to take her hand. “To take this on and keep it a secret from so many people can’t be easy. You’re amazing.”

She looked at him with surprise clear in her eyes.

“You believe me?”

He nodded at her.

“It makes sense. This town has too many random disappearances, too many unexplained deaths. It’s not natural so I guess it has to be supernatural.”

A slow smile formed on her face as she leaned towards him.

“I was so sure you would think I was making it all up,” Sansa breathed, putting her hand on his cheek.

Jon smiled at her, reaching up to put his hand over hers.

“You don’t have to carry this burden by yourself anymore, Sansa,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “I’ll help you with whatever you need, I promise.”

She felt warmth spreading through her chest at his words. As scared as she had been to tell anyone her secret, Jon was proving that she made the right decision here.

“You won’t tell anyone, right?” Sansa asked warily.

He shook his head.

“I won’t speak a word of it unless you want me to,” Jon vowed.

She sighed with relief, throwing her arms around his shoulders. He held her close, rubbing her back soothingly.

“Thank you, Jon,” Sansa whispered, tucking her face into his neck. “You have no idea how much I needed someone to talk to.”

“You can talk to me whenever you want,” he assured her.

She smiled, knowing that he was telling the truth. Sansa could see what the rest of her family saw in Jon. He was a good person and she was grateful to have him around. Things would be easier from here on out, she was certain. What could possibly go wrong?


	96. Canon AU - Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brontide - a low muffled sound like distant thunder

When Sansa first heard the rumble of thunder, she sat up straight in her bed with a gasp. It was not all that loud. The storm was too far away for that. But she could hear it all the same. Though she knew that Old Nan’s stories were nonsense, she could not help but think of the stomping of giant feet outside of the castle when she heard the noise again. She trembled beneath her furs, wanting nothing more than to run out of the chamber and to her mother for comfort. But Lady Catelyn was recovering from Rickon’s birth and they were not to bother her. Arya would be no help. Neither would Robb. They would both make fun of her. Bran was too young and Sansa’s father was away from the keep visiting White Harbor.

But Jon would not tease her. He always comforted Arya and Bran if they were scared. Would he do the same for her? Sansa was out of her bed and pulling a dressing gown on before she could really think it through. As she crept down the corridor, the stone floor cold beneath her bare feet, she could hear the storm drawing closer. A shiver went through her body when she saw the lightning flash through a window and the resulting crash of thunder made her break into a run. She darted through the halls until she reached Jon’s door, losing her nerve at the last moment. Would he call her stupid for being scared? Sansa hesitantly knocked on the door, hoping not to wake anyone else. Moments later, a confused Jon opened it, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

“Sansa?” he said, his voice rough with sleep.

She looked at him with wide eyes, wrapping her arms around her torso.

“I’m scared,” Sansa whispered.

At that moment, the thunder boomed through the sky. Sansa flinched, letting out a soft whimper. To her relief Jon looked at her with understanding, offering his hand to her.

“Come on,” he said in a gentle voice.

Sansa took his hand, allowing him to pull her inside. As he barred the door once more, she hurried over to his bed and burrowed beneath the furs, barely peeking out at the window where she could see rain beginning to fall.

“Is it the thunder?” Jon said, slipping into the bed as well.

They both laid on their sides, facing each other with the furs tugged up to their chins. Sansa nodded, taking a shuddering breath.

“Old Nan says that the ghosts of the giants who built Winterfell make the noise,” she said in a hushed voice.

Jon let out a quiet laugh.

“Perhaps they do."

She frowned at him, rather hoping that he would do a better job of comforting her. But then he was involved in the plot to scare them in the crypts, covering himself with flour before jumping out at them. Perhaps he wasn’t the right person to seek out after all.

“You know what I find scares any ghosts away?” Jon said, moving closer to her.

“What?” Sansa whispered.

He looked at her in the eye, remaining silent for several moments before his hands shot out.

“Laughter!"

That was her only warning before he began tickling her. Sansa shrieked and laughed, squirming beneath his hands as she buried her face in the pillow so that no one would hear her.

“Jon!” she cried, a wide grin on her face as she shoved him away.

He was laughing as well, his grey eyes bright even in the darkness of the room. Lightning flashed again and Sansa buried her face in his shoulder. He stiffened out of surprise for a brief moment before his arms wound around her and he held her close.

“Thank you,” Sansa whispered.

He hummed in reply, stroking her long auburn hair.

“I’ll always protect you, Sansa,” Jon assured her.

She felt warmth building in her chest at his words.

“Even from giants.”

Sansa giggled before closing her eyes, letting sleep overtake her as she curled into the comfort of his arms.


	97. Canon AU - Doubt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?"

"Do you ever wonder if the world would be better off without you?"

Jon’s head snapped around as soon as she said it, his dark eyes settling upon her. Sansa did not return his gaze, instead staring out the window at the glittering surface of the Blackwater.

“Why would you say that?” he said, his voice low and quiet.

She took a deep breath, gripping the handrail of the balcony tightly.

“It’s true, though,” Sansa said, finally turning to look at him. “If I hadn’t been born, everything might be different. I did so many stupid things. I trusted the Lannisters when I should not have. Perhaps if I did not exist, Winterfell would still stand and our family would still live.”

Jon shook his head, stepping towards her. They had not spoken much since he arrived in the Vale and took her away to King’s Landing. Sansa had been terrified that she would stand trial for Joffrey’s death, even under the Dragon Queen. She should have had more faith in her cousin than that. As his hand pressed to her cheek, his skin warmer than was normal, she sighed and leaned her head into the soft touch.

“I didn't know that you felt this way,” Jon said in a hushed voice.

Sansa looked up only to see that there was a glimmer of fear in his eyes. She couldn't help but feel confused. Why would he be afraid? Would he not be relieved if she ceased to exist? After all, it was her fault that the only father he’d ever had was dead and that Arya disappeared never to be found again. It wasn’t like they were close in childhood. Now, as a woman of ten and seven namedays, Sansa could see how unfair she was to the boy she thought was her bastard brother. There were no amount of apologies that could make up for that.

“The thoughts only come at night, when the moon is high in the sky. Sometimes they are accompanied by nightmares,” Sansa admitted, ducking her head again.

Jon sighed heavily, carefully wrapping his other arm around her back. She felt astonishment as he pulled her into his chest, embracing her gently.

“I would not be better off without you, Sansa,” Jon said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

She shivered at his words, tears springing to her eyes as she loosely wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Truly?” she said, her voice breaking as a tear ran down her cheek.

“Truly,” Jon confirmed, his hand cradling the back of her head as she pressed it over his beating heart.

Sansa found strength in his words, even when she could not find it within herself. She held him closer, letting her eyes close as she relished in his comfort. For the first time in a long time, she thought that everything might just be all right.


	98. Canon AU - Eloping 2.0

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jon gets a bastard on Sansa, they decide to elope, only to find themselves caught and brought back to their family to answer for their behavior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not a sequel to the other eloping drabble that I wrote. It's a whole different fic.

Sansa could not help but tremble as they were escorted back to Winterfell by Jory and a dozen of Winterfell’s guards. She knew that her face must be quite pale as her stomach churned dangerously. As they rode through the gates, she felt quite faint. Jon helped her down from the horse once they drew to a stop, holding her up when she staggered.

“Are you all right?” he asked, panic clear in his eyes.

She clutched at him, pressing her face into his shoulder.

“I fear what they will do,” Sansa whispered.

“They will not separate us, Sansa. I promise I will not allow it."

She nodded, straightening up before slipping her hand into his. Jon squeezed it gently before nodding at Jory. They walked into the Great Hall just like that, hovering close to one another. At the sight of her father perched on the ancient seat of House Stark and her mother standing at his side, she fought the urge to hide behind her new husband. Robb stood nearby as well, a frown on his face as he watched his sister and his cousin approach. No one expected this to happen, which was why everyone looked so solemn.

“What is the meaning of this?” Ned asked.

To Sansa, his voice sounded very far away. She clutched at Jon tighter, her head swimming as she tried to blink away the darkness creeping in at the edge of her vision.

“Sansa?” Jon said, frowning over at her.

“I don't feel well,” she breathed before collapsing in his arms.

He held her up, gathering her in his arms with a panicked shout of her name. Just as she slipped into unconsciousness, Sansa heard him calling for Maester Luwin.

*****

AS she woke, Sansa heard the low murmur of voices all around her. She opened her eyes slowly, reaching for Jon as she sighed his name. He was at her side in an instant, taking her hand in both of his.

“The baby?” Sansa said, looking at him questioningly.

“You knew?”

Her eyes flitted to her mother, who stood at the edge of the bed with her father. Neither of them answered her question.

“You’re both fine. Maester Luwin said that fainting spells are normal. You just need to rest for a while,” Jon assured her, stroking her hair before kissing her forehead.

She sighed with relief, smiling as she brought him closer for a deep kiss. Sansa ignored the small gasps that rose up around her bedchamber, only caring for her husband and their child. As he pressed his forehead to hers, they both smiled widely.

“I think it’s best to let mother and child rest,” Maester Luwin suggested quietly.

Ned walked to them, bending over to kiss Sansa’s cheek before patting Jon’s shoulder.

“When you are well, we will have an official wedding and a banquet to celebrate,” he decided.

Sansa and Jon both nodded in agreement.

“Thank you, Father,” she whispered.

He nodded before pulling away. Catelyn simply hugged Sansa briefly before giving Jon a curt nod. 

“I suppose it’s a start,” Sansa said as everyone filed out.

“I hope so,” Jon sighed.

She turned to look at him again, tugging him down. As soon as he was lying on the bed beside her, she curled into his side.

“We should start thinking of names,” she suggested.

Jon smiled, joy overwhelming him at the thought of holding their child in his arms in a matter of months.

“We should."


	99. Modern AU - Lyanna's Funeral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It’s okay to cry."

“It’s okay to cry.”

With four words, Sansa said what no one else would. Everyone praised Jon for his strength. For how brave he’d been since his mother’s death. No one told him that it was okay to be the young man that he was and to let his composure falter. As soon as she found him out on the back porch at her house during the reception, Sansa said what she knew he needed to hear. She could see that he was trying to keep his brave face even now but it only took a few moments to fall in the wake of her words. Jon turned, burying his face in her hair as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Sansa didn’t say another word, knowing that nothing else could help. She simply stroked his hair and closed her eyes, fighting her own tears as she felt his wetting her black dress.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jon choked out, pulling away from her.

His cheeks were wet and his eyes were looking at her pleadingly. He wanted her to tell him what to do, how to cope. Sansa took a deep breath, remembering what he told her when her own mother died several years ago.

“I don’t either,” she said, wiping away his tears. “But I'm not going anywhere, I promise.”

Sansa leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He trembled in her arms, crushing her to him.

“And you know that I won’t be the only one. My dad and Robb and Arya will be there. Bran and Rickon too.”

Jon nodded, taking a deep breath.

“I don’t want to be alone,” he admitted.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sansa assured him.

He held her tighter, using her words to calm him.

“I don’t want to be here anymore."

Sansa slipped her hand into his, pulling him up to stand, speaking three more words that he needed to hear.

“Then let’s go.”


	100. Modern AU - Jon tries his best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How could pancakes possibly go this horribly wrong?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT
> 
> So I didn't actually realize just how many drabbles that I wrote on my old blog until I see now that this collection is sitting at 100 chapters. I'm not even done yet, so I'm going to create a second collection so that this one doesn't get insanely longer. I'll make it part of a series so that it's easy to find.

Sansa woke to a truly frightening sound, wincing as she sat up in the bed. Placing her hand on her still sensitive abdomen, she rose slowly from the bed and shuffled out of the bedroom. As she made her way to the kitchen, she feared what she would see. Sure enough, Jon was moving around frantically, trying to fix whatever he’d done.

“I’m almost afraid to look,” she said, casting a glance at the stove.

He turned around with wide eyes.

“I was trying to make breakfast. You were sleeping and…”

Sansa waved him off, walking forward to kiss him deeply. When she looked into the frying pan, her eyes widened at the sight of the burned mess.

“What is it supposed to be?”

“Pancakes,” Jon said sheepishly.

Sansa fought back a startled laugh, picking up a spatula to poke at the hard substance.

“I’m confused,” she said, tilting her head to the side.

“Pancakes,” he repeated.

Sansa didn’t manage to hold her laughter back this time.

“I got that much. It’s just…” she hesitated, giving him a wary look. “How could pancakes possibly go this horribly wrong?" 

Jon looked back at her with wide eyes, looking strained just before he let out a choking laugh. In only a few moments, they were both in hysterics, holding onto each other to keep upright. Their noise woke up the other person in the room and their eight-day-old baby let out a squalling noise that stunned them both out of laughter. Sansa walked over to their daughter, lifting her out of the mobile bed.

"For future reference, baby girl, your daddy is a terrible cook,” Sansa said, smiling down at her as she cradled her gently.

She sat down at the table before tugging her shirt up and Jon let out a scoff where he was scraping the burned remains of his experiment into the trash.

“Luckily she’s on mommy’s food plan,” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Sansa grinned back at him.

“But for all the skills that he lacks in the kitchen, he’s an amazingly sweet man and he will always take care of both of us no matter what,” she continued, running a finger over Lyra’s downy hair as she fed eagerly.

Jon sighed, walking over to them.

“I wanted to make you breakfast,” he said quietly, stroking her hair away from her face.

“I know,” Sansa said, beaming up at him. “I love you for that.”

He sat down in another chair as Lyra pulled away and fussed a bit. Sansa relinquished her, pulling her shirt back down. Jon placed her carefully against his chest, patting her back gently until she let out a ladylike burp and snuggled closer to her father.

“I don’t care about breakfast,” Sansa said, reaching out to stroke his cheek gently. “You’re a wonderful husband and a fantastic father.”

Jon simply smiled at her, rocking back and forth as Lyra let out a contented sigh.

“Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Sansa said with a grin.

As he cuddled with their daughter, she got up and began to make a better version of pancakes.

“You don’t have to,” Jon began to protest.

“I want to,” Sansa replied, nodding at Lyra. “You keep doing that.”

He didn’t argue any further, smiling happily as he adjusted Lyra against his chest and continued rocking her to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I would love to hear what you think about any of them!


End file.
